


Of Pretty Things and Wilted Roses

by Dartwind



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Blood, Character Study, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Unrequited Love, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 13:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16198481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dartwind/pseuds/Dartwind
Summary: Shuichi sits in the back of the library, squinting at his computer screen. He reads the definition of hanahaki disease again in his head.“Hanahaki Disease is a potentially fatal illness caused by the activation of hanahaki seeds ingested into the lungs. Only adolescents or patients with irregular hormones can be affected by this disease. Surgical removal of the plant system alleviates symptoms in 98% of patients."If what he’s reading is true, then why is he starting to cough up flowers again at age eighteen, two years after his "successful" surgery?





	1. Cherry Blossom Cyanide

The first time, it is cherry blossoms.

 

“He has Hanahaki disease, type one. It’s fairly typical of boys his age.”

 

The doctor’s voice is even - calm. But the implications of her words don’t go unnoticed by Shuichi, who looks down at his feet. He realizes that he’d never changed out of his gym sneakers.

 

“Can you do anything about it? He has a future ahead of him!”

 

Shuichi winces. His father’s voice is tinged with anger, disappointment, fear. It’s all directed at the poor doctor, who can’t do much more than shake her head. The emotion that builds in Shuichi’s father’s eyes make the teen want to hide under the table before the man explodes. And sure enough, it isn’t long before his father begins to shout. Shuichi wants to tell him to stop - it’s not her fault. But he knows that if he does, he’ll only make his temper worse.

 

Two minutes later, Shuichi's father storms out of the room in a huff. The door shuts behind him with a bang, and Shuichi flinches, fear flashing across his face.  The doctor, only mildly frazzled, turns to face him. Even though the rest of her face looks tired, her sympathetic smile speaks volumes.

 

Shuichi wishes he could crawl out of the window. Panic crawls up his throat.

 

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault he’s upset. I... I didn’t tell him.”

 

The words come out before Shuichi can stop them from spilling past of his lips. The doctor merely nods and puts her clipboard on the counter.

 

She stares straight into his eyes, her face gentle, “Thank you. I know that can be hard for parents to hear for the first time...”

 

There’s a pause, and then comes the question Shuichi had been dreading from the start, “But I’m here for you, Shuichi, not him. How are you doing?”

 

Shuichi shrugs. He can smell the sweat on his skin, thick and pungent. The blood stains that decorate his shirt in red have not faded, no matter how much water he had poured on them in the bathroom.

 

It... could be worse.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

He lies. He can't bring himself to tell the truth. Nevertheless, the doctor is nothing if not patient. She stands, unmoving, “Did either of your parents know about this before you came here?”

 

Shuichi doesn’t answer right away, opting to glance at the clock instead. It’s 2:02, meaning he’s missing his math exam. His shoulders sag - he’ll have to make it up tomorrow.

 

“No.” He finally replies, jaw taunt.

 

The doctor’s face contorts into a look half between pity and sympathy, “Why didn’t you tell your parents?”

 

Shuichi would have laughed if his throat didn’t burn every time he exhaled. Shuichi unconsciously picks at the dried blood on his hand.

 

“It’s untreatable - why make them worry?”

 

The doctor purses her lips. A strand of hair falls over her face as she turns to write something down on her clipboard. She leaves, bidding Shuichi a quick goodbye and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

 

Hanahaki.

 

He’d expected that diagnosis ever since he was ten and he woke up with petals clogging the back of his throat. He remembers the confusion that jarred him from his half-asleep daze, and then the desperate, frenzied choking that left him shivering.

 

It was only recently that his coughing started to bring up blood, and the petals started to inhibit his ability to breathe. Before, they were small, pretty little things that were only mildly uncomfortable. Now, the petals are fully formed flowers, blooming and beautiful. But as lovely as they are, they make Shuichi feel like there’s a mass in his throat, and sometimes, they don’t come out until he vomits.

 

His mother thought he should’ve have transferred last year. Maybe he could have put off the surgery longer, or maybe it would have gone away on its own.

 

But she was foolish to think that, and Shuichi knows that now. No matter what Shuichi does, the hanahaki never gets better. He trembles when he feels a petal flutter in his throat, and he swallows it down. It’s unpleasant, but he needs to suppress the urge to cough - he doesn’t want to pass out again.

 

His mother comes in only moments later, and her face is impassive.

 

“You’re getting surgery in two months.”

 

\---

 

He never forgets the day before it begins.

 

Kaede sits next to him in the couch, her arm over his shoulder. It’s comfortable - safe. He leans into her side, and she giggles.

 

“Shuichi, did you see that?”

 

She points to the screen, and he nods. She smiles.

 

He smiles back, and a split second later, he’s choking. Kaede’s eyes crease in concern when he doubles over and coughs so hard he nearly gags. Her hands fly to his shoulders, fear plastered over her face, “Are you okay?”

 

Shuichi tries not to panic as he answers her in a raspy whisper, “Water, I… I need water.”

 

His heart is racing, and by some miracle he’s able to push himself to his feet. He walks to the sink in a strange, hazy fog. He thinks he knows why he feels like this, why he’s coughing, and why his chest hurts. But he doesn’t dare admit it to himself.  No, that would make it real - too real. There’s no reason to just to conclusions, anyways, since he doesn’t even know for sure yet why he’s coughing. Anyways, even if he’s right, it might go away. He’ll be free, live to laugh about it later on in life, and tell stories about his brush with -

 

“Shuichi?”

 

He nearly drops his cup at the sound of his name. Kaede stands beside him, holding the remote in her hands. She looks worried, “ I paused the movie, we can - ”

 

“I think I’m getting a cold. You should go home, Kaede.”

 

Her face falls, “Oh Shuichi, I’m sorry. But, I - ”

 

“I don’t want to get you sick.” Shuichi presses, interrupting her.

 

She can’t stay here, not when he’s like this. His mother comes down the stairs and enters the kitchen, “What’s going on? You have to go home, Kaede?”

 

“I’m getting a cold and I don’t want Kaede to get sick.” Shuichi blurts out before Kaede can even open her mouth.

 

His mother stares at him. He tries not to shrink under her gaze, her pale grey eyes piercing through him. Eventually, she breaks the stare and sighs, “ I’ll take you home in a few minutes, Kaede. Get your things together and get in the car.”

 

Kaede nods slowly, passing by Shuichi. He hates the look she gives him as she walks out of the room. Even so, Shuichi watches he go, his mother’s eyes hovering over him the entire time.

 

His mother makes no move to comfort him, “Say goodbye to her before she leaves, Shuichi, then go straight to bed.”

 

He nods and waits for Kaede to return. She comes back with her things, and Shuichi escorts her to the garage door.  Shuichi faces her, “I’m sorry Kaede, I-”

 

He trails off as Kaede’s arms wrap around him, and his throat goes dry. She hugs him for a moment before she pulls back and smiles softly, “It’s okay Shuichi! I want you to get better, alright? Call me tomorrow and tell me how you’re feeling.”

 

Her voice is upbeat and light, but the smile she gives him is forced. He bobs his head weakly, and she walks outside before he can come up with something to say. His mother starts up the car, and the garage door opens with a loud, prolonged squeak. The car rumbles as it backs out.

 

Even after Kaede is gone, Shuichi’s throat still burns, hot and unpleasant. Shuichi heeds his mother’s order and goes to bed, but it’s hours before he falls asleep.

 

When he wakes up, there are petals fluttering in his throat.

 

\---

 

He is first diagnosed with asthma, then acid reflux, then finally hanahaki.

 

He doesn’t need an inhaler, but the antacids soothe him sometimes. It makes it easier to fake it, too. His parents buy it, and they don’t ask him about it as long as he shows no signs of illness or dropping grades.  Shuichi tries to keep it a secret from Kaede to, because somewhere deep down, he knows he can’t tell her. She’d ask more and more questions, and Shuichi wouldn’t be able to lie at that point.

 

But as much as he wants to keep his ailment a secret, Shuichi can’t avoid her. They’re swinging on the swingset on one of the last days of fifth grade when his throat fills with petals and his stomach lurches. He jumps off his swing, runs to woods, and vomits whole flowers into the river.

 

Kaede doesn’t see it, and he assures her it’s just a stomach bug.

 

\---

 

When Shuichi looks at cherry blossoms, he feels resentment.

 

He used to hate getting sick. But the fear dulled over time as his sickness slowly became part of his daily routine. He gets used to his throat always burning and his stomach always gurgling. The fluttering in his lungs too, serves as a casual reminder of the plants that have taken root in his lungs.

 

He’s surprised no one suspects it earlier.  Yet then again, he’s always been sickly, introverted and plagued by allergies in his younger years. The years he suffers alone through the panic attacks and the cold, unfiltered dread that grips him when he feels the petals crawling up his throat are years he wishes he could forget. The only comfort he has is books that tell him stories of places far, far away from the petals he vomits into the toilet in the morning. No matter how bad it gets, he doesn’t tell Kaede or his parents.

 

They can’t know.

 

His parents would make him get surgery, and even if it was successful, he could lose the ability to feel emotion, which scared him more than Hanahaki itself. On the other hand, if Kaede knew, she’d blame herself, he’s sure of it. She’s too kind, too generous - knowing that she was the cause of his illness would destroy her. She sees him as a brother, as a friend, and nothing more. The flowers remind him of that every time he breathes, fluttering in his chest and crawling up his throat

 

Yet...

 

Shuichi can see why people consider the blossoms beautiful, even if he doesn’t. They’re pretty things, pale pink with a darker centers and fat, rounded leaves. They don’t last long in nature, blooming for only a few weeks. Maybe that’s why they’re so common in first-time Hanahaki sufferers, and why, out of all the flowers, they’re the ones that clear up the fastest.

 

Shuichi’s however, never clears.

 

\---

 

They sit in the grass under an old tree with gnarled bark and boughs of wide, pointed leaves that spread out high above them. The smell of spring air and freshly-cut lawns drift through the wind and towards Shuichi. He reads the equation on his homework over again in his head, his eyes narrowed. His pencil taps on his paper listlessly as his mind works. Kaede sits beside him, reading a book they have to read for their literature class. He’s glad she’s here - they hadn’t spent much time together recently.

 

Shuichi’s phone buzzes, breaking the relative silence of the afternoon calm. He sighs and taps the screen. It’s four o'clock; they’ve been out of school for nearly an hour and a half.  The source of the buzz turns out to be a text from Shuichi’s mother. The message is simple, short and to the point, like always. She’ll pick him up in fifteen minutes at the front of the school.

 

He doesn’t want to leave Kaede. His sudden stiffness must be apparent, because suddenly Kaede is leaning over, her breath ghosting over the side of his throat, “Your mom?”

 

Her hair cascades over his skin, sending a shiver up his arm. She smells familiar, like a home away from home.

 

“Yeah, she’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

 

Petals rise in his throat, and he rubs his chest automatically. He replies to his mother with three words - _Okay, be there_. She’ll know what he means. Across the field, a girl with dark brown hair in long pigtails is walking with a boy dressed in a purple coat. Kaede stares at them as they walk, unblinking.

 

Shuichi is settling back into his algebra homework when he hears Kaede cough. At first, he writes it down as nothing. But when her soft coughs become loud, hacking noises, and her inhalations sound like frenzied gasps for air, he looks over.

 

Kaede’s face is pale, and in her hand is covered in blood. Shuichi’s body goes cold.

 

“Shuichi, I…”

 

Her hand shakes as she uncurls her fingers, revealing a lone red poppy sitting in her palm.  
  
“I think I have Hanahaki.”

 

\--

 

When Shuichi is sixteen, he stops breathing.

 

He’s at home when it happens, bent over a trash can, blood and flowers flowing out of his mouth. It’s his worst attack yet, brought on by Kaede’s presence only minutes ago. He’s fortunate that she had to leave when she did. He doesn’t know how he could have explained his sickness to her if she had stayed.

 

One flower catches in his windpipe, and Shuichi chokes. He frantically sticks his hand in the back of his throat and tries to grab the flower. Try as he might, he can’t just can’t reach it. He gags and vomits again, but the flower stays lodged in the back of his throat. A wave of heat followed by a wave of cold rips through his body.

 

Shuichi hears the sounds of footsteps and his uncle’s voice before his vision goes dark.

 

\---

 

He meets her when he is five.

 

The classroom is awash with stale, artificial light, each and every wall painted with a disgustingly cheery shade of yellow. Shuichi sits alone at a table in the back of the ugly room, his hand tightly clenched around a black crayon. It has bite marks on its end, and the paper around it is peeling away. A teacher crouches near him, trying to coax him out of his seat.

 

He doesn’t move.

 

The teacher sighs and stands, advancing towards him. His heart races as she gets closer, and he panics. Abandoning the crayon, he ducks under the table and out of the teacher’s grasp. No matter how hard the teacher tries, she cannot reach him there. Even the classroom aide cannot grab him, both of the adults being too slow and too big to fit underneath the table. They continue their attempts to entice him out while he huddles pathetically near the wall. Yet despite their efforts, none of their bribes work - Shuichi is too wary of them to be persuaded by things such as candy and toys.

 

A touch on his shoulder makes him flinch.

 

A girl crawls up besides him, her blonde hair short and unkempt. She has a wild look in her eyes, and Shuichi is immediately on guard. She speaks before he’s able to process what’s happening, “Hi! My name is Kaede, what’s yours?”

 

He stares at her, unmoving. He’s decided that she’s the lesser of the two evils, but still isn’t ready to trust her quite yet.

 

“I’m… umm,  Shuichi.”

 

She smiles, and he notices she’s missing one of her front teeth.

 

“Hi Umm Shuichi! Isn’t it so cool under here? I love hiding under the tables!”

 

She leans in closer, and Shuichi leans back, frowning, “It’s just Shuichi, not umm Shuichi…”

 

Moving backwards only entices Kaede to move closer, as Shuichi finds out the hard way.

 

The girl’s face brightens, “I found a skittle at my last school under a table once - it was red, my favorite!”

 

Shuichi cringes, screwing up his face. He can’t imagine why anyone would eat candy that they found on the floor. Kaede just grins wider in response, reaching out for his hand.

 

“Awesome, right? But I couldn’t find any under here…” She trails off, her expression somber.

 

Shuichi’s look of disgust deepens, and Kaede’s smile returns, now even wider than before, “Do you like instruments? ‘Cuz I like the piano! Come on, come on, I’ll show you!”

 

With that, Shuichi finds his hand in hers. She all but drags him past the teachers and towards the opposite corner of the room. Once they are there, Kaede sits down on the seat of the toy piano. She pats the empty space next to her, “Sit down! Let’s play together!”

 

He sits next to her, and she begins to play, her shoulder brushing up against his when she moves. Despite the ugly walls and the scary teachers, Shuichi is strangely content to sit next to Kaede and listen to her play.

 

\---

 

They’re walking home when she tells him the name.

 

The pavement radiates heat, and Shuichi feels sweat dribble down his back. Soon, school will be over, and Shuichi will have a summer to relax. A gust of wind gently ruffles his hair as they turn a corner, providing momentary relief from the sun’s warmth. For the most part, they walk in silence.

 

“It’s Maki Harukawa.”

 

Shuichi does not startle at Kaede’s sudden confession. Kaede and her had been friends for years, ever since she and Kaede beat up bullies together in grade school.

 

“Is she…?”

 

Kaede looks down. Her steps falter, and Shuichi can practically see her heart split in half.

 

“No.”

 

The sun burns on the back of his neck. He clears his throat and squints at the air rippling over the grey-black road ahead. Despite the heat, Shuichi feels cold.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

\---

 

Kaede and Shuichi sit together on Kaede’s bed. Kaede’s house is big, expensive, and new. Her parents aren’t home, as usual. She tells him that they are off on a big photo shoot in the city, but she doesn’t know which one. Her grandmother is downstairs watching TV, accompanied by Kaede’s dog, Mio. Kaede’s knee touches Shuichi’s thigh, and his heart flutters.

 

“Shuichi?”

 

He looks up at Kaede, who is putting dividers into her binder.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you nervous?”

 

Shuichi takes a moment to mull the question over in his head, thumbing the edges of his notebook. Tomorrow will be their first day of high school, and they’re spending the afternoon preparing.

 

He shrugs, “I guess so. It hasn’t sunk in completely yet.”

 

Kaede groans, flopping onto her back, “Me too. But I’m scared that I’ll forget my classes or get lost…”

 

Shuichi tries his best to quell her worries, “Don’t be, I’m sure there are going to be people to help us. We’re new.”

 

Kaede doesn’t look entirely convinced, so Shuichi gives her a reassuring smile, “You can call me if you get lost.”

 

It’s ironic - usually, it’s Kaede assuring Shuichi that things are going to be okay. Kaede sits back up and sighs, “If you say so, Shuichi. I’m glad we have at least some classes together.”

 

Shuichi dips his head in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”

 

“Hey, Shuichi?”

 

Kaede places her hand on his shoulder.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Shuichi raises an eyebrow at her, “For what?”

 

“For everything. Just… thank you.”

 

Flowers threaten to fill his throat and choke him, but his smile never leaves his face.

 

“You’re welcome, Kaede.”

 

\---

 

When he wakes, the room is bright.

 

Too bright.

 

Shuichi tries to push himself up, but his arms don’t cooperate. Everything feels wrong, and he’s disorientated. His chest burns, and his throat feels raw. A deep ache radiates down his chest.

 

Shuichi’s eyes water in a mixture of pain and fear. His vision is muddled, vague shapes filtering in and out of sight. Someone is speaking to him, but he can’t discern what they’re saying.

 

“Shuichi!”

 

One voice cuts through the jumble. Shuichi squeezes his eyes shut, giving them time to clear, and then opens them. The light that had previously been above him is now blocked out by a dark mass. Shuichi feels wetness on his cheeks, and then mass is hugging him gently. Their embrace feels oddly familiar. Shuichi’s brows furrow, and he tries to speak.

 

“What… where am I? What’s happening?”

 

The words come out jumbled and strange, but the mass pulls away from him. A girl looks down at him, her violet eyes brimming with tears.

 

_Kaede._

 

His memories come back in a rush. Kaede is saying something, but Shuichi doesn’t here it.

 

_The blood, the screams, the feeling of choking._

 

No.

 

_His uncle, the paramedics, the mask._

 

No, no, no, no.

 

_The fear._

 

He chokes back a sob, and is rewarded by a sharp sting of pain. His eyes leak tears that mingle with the wetness from before, rolling down his cheeks in solitary streams. Shuichi hates the way Kaede looks at him, with soft eyes and a concerned frown.

 

“Shuichi, are you okay?”

 

_No._

 

“Kaede… what’s…”

 

“You’re in the hospital, Shuichi. You had pneumonia. It was really bad, so they… they had to operate.”

 

He’s about to correct her when he remembers - she can’t know.

 

His energy leaves him. Relief floods through his veins. He expects to feel something when her faces comes into focus and she squeezes his hand, but…

 

There’s nothing.

 

His heart jumps in fear, and he looks around, panicked. He feels sick.

 

_Wrong, wrong, wrong._

 

Kaede rubs the back of his hand with her thumb, her skin warm and soft against his.

 

“Shuichi? You’re fine, remember? You’re at the hospital. Do you want your parents? They’re going to want to know you’re awake Or-”

 

He can’t think, and without warning, he feels like he’s being choked again, petals filling up his throat, his lungs, his stomach, his veins, his…

 

“Doctor, where’s the doctor?” Shuichi croaks, every syllable he utters burning like liquid fire in his throat.

 

Kaede sits up straight, releasing Shuichi’s hand. Her face looks increasingly worried, “Oh! The doctor, of course. I’ll find one for you, okay Shuichi?”

 

He nods, and Kaede darts away.

 

A thousand thoughts ricochet around in his head, but he can decipher none of them. He forces himself to breathe, attempting to fight through the panic.

 

_It isn’t real, it isn’t real._

 

But no matter how many times he reassures himself, he can’t convince himself the flowers in the back of his throat are imaginary.

 

\---

 

Shuichi knows Kaede will never like him back.

 

He knows it the day he sees her on the playground standing next over the body of a boy nearly twice her size, a girl standing protectively beside her. As he gets closer, he realizes she’s yelling something at the boy who’s on the ground, all her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

 

Shuichi has never seen her so angry before.

 

She takes one step forward, and the boy’s eyes widen. He picks himself up, snot and blood dripping out of his nose, and runs away crying. Two other boys run with him, yelling for a teacher. Kaede merely turns to the girl. She has her brown hair tied up in matching pigtails, and one side of her face has a big, ugly bruise on it. Shuichi has seen her before - they were in class together, once. Upon looking at the girl, Kaede’s anger seems to wilt, but Shuichi isn’t blind. He can see it brimming just below her skin, hot and volatile.

 

Kaede approaches the girl and hugs her. The girl looks surprised for a moment, but then she leans forward, whispering something into Kaede’s ear.  Immediately, Kaede’s face grows red, and she’s only capable of stuttering back an incoherent, muffled reply. The pair walk away together, Kaede grasping the girl’s hand in hers.

 

Shuichi’s stomach drops.


	2. College Woes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting somewhere! This is really where the meat of the story will occur, Shuichi now being in college and trying to get his life together. Hope y'all enjoy!

Shuichi predicts there will be a lot of socializing in college. He knows there will be frat parties, clubs, students getting drunk on the weekends, and football games. However, he does not plan on participating in or attending any of them.

 

So, when he finds himself leaning against a wall in the most remote corner of the frat house, completely alone and desperately trying to avoid his shoes sticking to the floor, he is, needless to say, not exactly sure what to do.

 

The music is obnoxiously loud. The beat reverberates in his sternum and batters his eardrums. He tries to drown out the sounds of the party by turning his attention the only non-alcoholic drink he could find: Pepsi. The can sits in his hand, opened, but otherwise untouched.

 

Shuichi takes a sip. 

 

The liquid is lukewarm, and it fizzles on his tongue. It tastes artificial, and is not satisfying in the least. He drinks it anyways, not even bothering to clean up the drops that dribble down the side of the can. 

 

The party goes on, and the music only seems to get louder. Shuichi’s headache eventually prompts him to peel himself away from the slimy wall and seek out an exit. He weaves through the house, dodging the party-goers that are so drunk that they’ve forgotten how to walk. Shuichi is lucky that he doesn’t trip over any bodies by the time he gets to the door.

 

The air is cooler on the front porch. A pair of lonely, long-finished beer bottles lie in front of the door, and Shuichi nearly smashes them with his feet when he attempts to step outside.  He grumbles in irritation, picking them up and putting them to the side. 

 

When Shuichi looks at his phone, he realizes that it is nearly one in the morning.

 

The thought of lying down on a hard, lumpy dorm bed has never felt so alluring. Despite the fatigue in his limbs, Shuichi is beckoned forward by the sweet temptation of sleep. His feet hit the ground in slow, measured intervals, and his eyelids droop.

 

In the distance, the party roars on.

 

\---

 

Class is boring.

 

It isn’t that the teachers are bad, or the material is hard. It has much more to do with the fact that Shuichi has no one to talk to. 

 

It isn’t that he’s accustomed to being alone, either. He likes time to himself, and having a space for him to just relax in, far away from anyone else. But he doesn’t realize how much he had come to depend on his daily interactions with Kaede until he’s sitting in the corner of his second class, dead asleep.

 

“Shuichi?”

 

Someone calls his name. Shuichi’s head jerks up, and he tries to right himself in his chair, nearly toppling over in the process. Once he’s righted himself, his eyes scan the lecture hall. With a jolt, he realizes that he’s the only student still here.

 

His professor stand beside him, her lips pursed. There’s a hint of amusement in her gaze.

 

“There’s another class coming in ten minutes. Hurry and get packed up.”

 

Shuichi nods, mumbling an apology and hastily shoving his books into his backpack. He makes a beeline towards the door, speed-walking as fast as humanly possible. 

 

The door opens, and Shuichi jerks back, nearly slamming into a student entering the room. 

 

“Sorry!” 

 

The words tumble out of Shuichi’s mouth before he can stop them. The student nods curtly, no emotion save for mild confusion present on his face. Shuichi steps back and lets the student pass, a wave of blue-black hair cascading behind him as he moves.

 

Shuichi walks out of the door, clutching his math textbook in his arms. Mentally, he reminds himself to go to sleep earlier tonight.

 

\---

 

At lunch, Shuichi picks dejectedly at his fries and pizza. An hour from now, he’s scheduled to go take an exam, but he doesn’t feel at all prepared. 

He forces down a few fries and a meager couple of bites of pizza before he can stomach no more. He stands and dumps the desecrated remains of his lunch into the trash.

 

Shuichi returns to his seat and sits down, pouring over his notes. It’s pathetic, really. The exam is only on one tiny little section of the textbook - it shouldn’t be this difficult for him. Nevertheless, Shuichi finds his eyes rapidly flickering over the page, barely understanding what’s in front of him.  _ I must be missing something if I don’t get it by now...  _ He thinks, his brows furrowed.

 

“Hello!”

 

Shuichi’s head snaps up, and he’s immediately face to face with a white-haired girl. She possesses dark skin and blue-green eyes that seem to bore into his soul.  She’s smiling at him with an impossibly wide grin.

 

“Hi…?”

 

He response sounds more unsure than he intends it to. She doesn’t seem to be deterred, however. The girl sits down on the chair opposite of him, her smile unwavering. 

 

“My name is Angie Yonaga! I’m running for student council. What is your name?”

 

Angie’s voice, loud and obnoxious, is too much for Shuichi. He winces, hoping she’ll get the message and leave him alone. 

 

“I’m… Shuichi, Shuichi Saihara.”

 

She offers a hand to him, and it becomes quite apparent that she does not, and will not, get the message.

 

“Nyhaha, nice to meet you, Shuichi! I hope we become great friends.”

 

Shuichi takes her hand. The girl shakes it with a force that nearly dislocates his arm. Shuichi smiles weakly.

 

“That uh, sounds fun...”

 

\---

 

Unfortunately, Angie does not forget him.

 

He finds himself sandwiched between two blue-eyed girls. On his right is Tsumugi, both of her long, spindly hands wrapped around his. She squeezes his fingers until they burn. 

 

Angie sits cross legged on his left, her knee barely brushing against his thigh. Her eyes are glued to the screen, gleaming with glee.

 

A movie plays in the background. Screams erupt from the speakers and Tsumugi squeezes Shuichi’s hand harder, nearly breaking the skin.

 

Shuichi winces, and Tsumugi looks down at his hand. Her eyes widen.

 

“Sorry!” she whispers, releasing his hand from her death grip.

 

She grips onto their shared blanket instead, and Shuichi breathes a sigh of relief. His fingers feel numb, but after a few seconds, pins and needles shoot down his appendages.

 

A boy catapults over the back of the couch, landing in the unoccupied space next to Angie. Tsumugi screeches and all but launches herself off the couch, taking the blanket and the remote with her. 

 

Shuichi flinches and then shivers, the chill of the room magnified without the warmth of the blanket. The boy next to Angie chuckles awkwardly.

 

“Sorry Tsumugi, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

 

Shuichi glances at him. His pale green hair matches his equally pale green eyes.  _ Rantaro _ , Shuichi thinks, recalling their meeting a few days ago. Rantaro holds out a bowl of popcorn to the group that, miraculously, hadn’t spilled.

 

“I made some popcorn - want any?”

 

As Rantaro speaks, Tsumugi sneaks back onto the couch. Shuichi notices that her face is pale, but says nothing.

 

When offered the popcorn bowl, Angie gathers up the biggest handful she can before voraciously inhaling all of it at once. Shuichi takes it from her and deposits a reasonable amount of popcorn into his long-empty drink cup. He then hands the bowl to Tsumugi and she shakes, almost too frazzled to hold it steady.

 

The blanket is returned to their laps. After some deliberation on account of Shuichi’s hand and Tsumugi’s sanity, they all agree to change to a lighter-hearted movie.

 

Shuichi doesn’t remember what they chose, because when he wakes, he lays alone on the couch, his head resting on a pillow and his body covered in blankets.

 

\---

 

Four months into his college year, Shuichi breaks. He’d been laying in his tiny dorm bed for a good half-hour, frowning at his computer screen. Nothing he does seems to take away his intermittent homesickness, and he’s at war with his mind on how to deal with it. On one hand, if he calls his old friends, then it may retreat for a while, but come back later. But on the other hand, if he doesn’t call, he’ll be forced to wallow in his own misery until the feeling resides.

 

It takes him another fifteen minutes before he finally presses the call button on his phone. It rings just about three times before Kaito picks up.

 

“Shuichi! How are you? Is college going alright?”

 

The familiar voice eases the clenching in Shuichi’s chest, and his reservations about talking to his old friends fade. Shuichi chuckles, “Hi Kaito. I’m doing okay - college is fine… but it’s a lot of work. How are you?”

 

“I’m great! And Maki’s doing good too. Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker.”

 

There’s a beep, and then Shuichi hears her voice through the phone..

 

“Hello Shuichi.”

 

Shuichi smiles, “Hello Maki. How’s it going?”

 

“It’s going well - I’ve been busy keeping Kaito in line.”

 

Shuichi hears Kaito splutter out an indignant reply, and then the two start to bicker. It’s a familiar sound, one that brings forth a sad ache of nostalgia. Their absence digs into him like a thorn, sharp and painfull. He doesn’t say a word as they argue, and it’s then that a realization washes over him. He doesn’t miss a place, not really. What he really misses are his friends.

 

The arguing eventually ceases, and the three talk to each other well into the night. Shuichi does his best to keep up a happy front, but even through the phone, it’s hard. He can tell Maki knows by her veiled questions and her subtle, worried tone. Kaito, meanwhile, is clueless, raving about a new astronaut program being implemented at his college. A few short minutes after they say their goodbyes and the phone call ends, Shuichi receives a text from Maki.

 

_ I’m here if you ever want to talk. _

 

He tells her thank you, and then shuts off his phone. His throat starts to burn, and he coughs. Thinking that his esophagus is merely dry from talking, Shuichi grabs his water and sips it. When he swallows, however, he feels something in the back of his mouth. A frigid spike of fear tears through his body, and Shuichi’s heart begins to race. Anxiety takes over, and suddenly he’s on the ground, coughing so hard that he’s gagging. 

 

Two objects dislodge from his throat and flutter to the floor. 

 

One, a poppy, and the other, a lilac. 

 

\---

 

Shuichi barely sleeps that night.

 

His anxiety grips him tight and doesn’t let go. It’s painfully cold and horribly uncomfortable, leaving him tossing and turning fretfully for the entirety of the night.

 

When morning comes, he drags himself from bed and walks down the dorm hallway to the coffee machine. He sets a cup below the machine and waits for it to brew. Around him, other students mope about. Some look awake, bouncing around and chattering as they prepare for classes. Others look like they have, literally, been dragged out of bed and then run over by a bus.

 

His coffee finishes brewing, and he grabs his cup. The liquid inside it warms his hands as he takes a sip. Upon tasting the coffee, Shuichi’s face puckers and he sets the cup down.  _ Too bitter, _ he thinks, walking over to the condiment area. There, he searches for sugar and creamer he likes. As he digs through the disorganized bins, his mind drifts to the two half-flowers in his desk drawer.

 

It doesn’t feel real to him. 

 

Shuichi pinches his arm, and immediately, he feels pain radiating from the area.  _ I guess this isn’t a dream.  _ He sighs as he dumps a few packets of sugar into his coffee to make it more palatable. He doesn’t know what to do about his sudden resurgence of hanahaki. All the memories that surge back into his mind make it difficult to think of anything clearly, so Shuichi banishes the thought from his consciousness as he stirs his coffee with a straw. 

 

His anxiety, however, stays.

 

On Shuichi’s second taste test of the coffee, he finds it isn’t bad, even though he couldn’t get his hand on any cream. He doesn’t bother getting any - this area is out, and he’d have to go to the cafeteria to get more. Instead, he crawls back upstairs, finishes his coffee while browsing on his computer, and then slowly, gets dressed.

 

The rest of the day drags on, even though Shuichi has only two classes. The lessons are not entertaining, and he finds himself nodding off on more than one occasion. Thoughts of hanahaki make concentrating hard, too. By one in the afternoon, a pounding headache has gathered at his temple, and it refuses to let up for the rest of the day. 

 

In the gaps between classes, Shuichi scours the internet for answers about his condition. He hasn’t coughed up flowers since last night’s phone call, but his worry hasn’t faded. Getting hanahaki twice is possible, he finds out. But getting it again after surgery  _ and _ having it for multiple people, much less people he’s never considered himself attracted to...? 

 

Shuichi shakes his head and continues his research. He finds some recurrences that occurred after botched or incomplete surgeries, yet none of them match his case. Interestingly, he finds out that moderate cases of hanahaki can be a result of strong platonic feelings, and not romantic ones. He feels himself relax - now that he knows that he doesn’t need to have a romantic attraction to his friends to have hanahaki caused by them, he feels less guilty. Yet still, Shuichi can find little more about the platonic variant than that it is rarer, and generally not chronic. 

 

He makes his search more specific, and somehow manages to stumble across a scholarly article that talks about chronic hanahaki. It’s exceedingly rare, much more so than the platonic variant, but is defined as having multiple hanahaki plant systems growing in one’s chest. While some plant systems die over time, there’s not enough information in the article for Shuichi to determine whether or not it can be removed through surgery. The only other facts he finds on his variation is in an old book that’s supposedly more folklore than actual medical knowledge. He bookmarks the page about it anyways - perhaps there’s something in the book that could help him.

 

The rest of his online search proves fruitless - only two poorly written “accounts” of recurring hanahaki and uncomfortably lewd fanfictions mention it. 

 

\---

 

Shuichi walks into the seventh examination room he’s been in this month.

 

The walls are painted an ugly shade of green, and the tiny room is cramped, cluttered with desks, books, and rickety chairs. Shuichi resigns himself to sit and wait on the examination table for the doctor. The clock on the wall ticks in time with Shuichi’s legs swinging back and forth. He tries not to think about why he’s here as he waits.

 

The door opens and Shuichi looks up. The doctor walks in before Shuichi gets a chance to settle himself, nodding to him curtly as he immediately goes to work rummaging around in a deep drawer. He resurfaces with a notepad and a pen in his hands. The doctor is an older man, with white, wispy hair curling around his sad, drooping face. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else other than here. 

 

He holds out his hand to Shuichi, speaking is a low, lumbering voice,“ Hello, Shuichi. My name is Dr. Nishida - what brings you in today?”

 

Shuichi shakes his hand. The man’s skin is tough and leathery, covered in spots from sun damage. Shuichi withdraws from the handshake and exhales slowly, “I’m uh, looking for hanahaki treatment…?” He says, pausing to gather his thoughts,“I had surgery about two years ago, for a different hanahaki infection. I haven’t had any lingering issues until recently, when I spoke to some old friends of mine. I coughed up a half of a poppy and a half of a lilac. I… don’t know why that would have triggered it - they were never people I had any interest in romantically.”

 

As Shuichi talks, the doctor appears to become more and more puzzled. After he finishes his story, Dr. Nishida sighs. He takes off his glasses and rubs his temple, “Well, that certainly sounds like something I’ve heard of before, though it’s rare… you are positive the flowers were different from those present during your first illness?”

 

Shuichi nods, “The first were different, I’m sure of it.”

 

A phone rings, and Dr. Nishida excuses himself to go check it. From the crack in the door, Shuichi sees him looking at a medical book while talking on the phone, but can’t tell what the doctor is saying. Shuichi shifts, and the paper on the examination table crinkles underneath him. While Dr. Nishida is gone, Shuichi occupies himself by counting the books in the room.

 

He counts to eighty-seven before the doctor returns. The doctor is quiet, and his face is dark. Shuichi’s stomach drops - this can’t be good. 

 

Dr. Nishida shakes his head as he speaks,“The only other possible explanation I can give you is that it’s a chronic hanahaki disease. It’s rare, and unfortunately, it does not have a cure - it runs too deep to be removed. However, I can prescribe you medications to deal with the pain, and refer you to a surgeon for a reduction should the mass get too large. I’m sorry, Shuichi.”

 

Shuichi doesn’t listen as the doctor drabble on about treatment options and managing his ailment. All Shuichi hears is that he can’t escape this disease. Shuichi robotically thanks the doctor before he leaves, the door closing with a click behind him. In his mind, he barely registers the trip home or curling up on his bed. The world eventually fades into blackness, and he dreams of things he cannot remember when he wakes. 

 

\---

 

Shuichi enters the library around midday. 

 

Some students mull around, but most are out eating lunch. Shuichi takes a quick scans of the room for the folklore section of the library. It’s a large building, the library much bigger than any that he’d seen before. The shelves are tall, reaching up high above his head and filled to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. It takes nearly five minutes for Shuichi to even find the folklore section, much less where his book would be. It’s placed next to religious books, sandwiched in between the fiction and non-fiction sections of the library.

 

He squints at the spines of the books on the shelves as he passes. He checks the entire section twice, yet…

 

Nothing. They book he’d seen online isn’t there.

 

He’s puzzled. The website had not indicated that the book was currently being borrowed by anyone, yet it is nowhere to be found. He looks around for help, but sees no one who looks like a library staff member. Shuichi walks forward listlessly, his feet moving on their own accord. 

 

He turns a corner and sees a large, round, wooden table. At it, sits a student with dark, waist-length hair and yellow eyes. They are thoroughly engaged in the book they are reading, barely blinking and scarcely moving even an inch. Shuichi get closer, fully intending to just pass by the student. But his eye catches the name of the book and he stops abruptly. It’s exactly the book he’s looking for, held in someone else’s hands. The student looks up when Shuichi steps up to the table.

 

“Yes?” The student asks through the mask covering his mouth.

 

Shuichi suddenly recognizes him. He’s the student Shuichi ran into a month or so ago when he fell asleep during class. His hair is what Shuichi remembers first. It reaches well past his waist, straight and immaculate. The rest of his body is long and thing, but he’s not overly lanky. His eyes are yellow, taking on a fiery orange tinge in the low light. Shuichi motions awardly to the book with a half-formed, jerky motion,“Hi, could I uh, borrow that when you’re done?” 

 

Shuichi wrings his hands together and watches for the student’s reaction. Upon seeing none, Shuichi hastily continues,“I’m studying hanahaki for a… project. The um, the history of it.”

 

The student tilts his head, “Interesting. However, I happen to need this book for a class, so I cannot give it away. My apologies.”

 

Shuichi’s heart sinks, and he’s about to turn away when the boy speaks, “But sit, and we can discuss it if you’d wish. My name is Korekiyo Shinguji, and I am majoring in anthropology.”

 

Shuichi sits.

 

He fiddles with his thumbs, looking everywhere but the other boy’s face. He hadn’t meant to come off as pushy in asking for the book. So he tries again, “I don’t need it today or anything. Sorry for being rude, you probably need the book more than I do.”

 

Korekiyo peers at him over the edges of the worn pages, a neutral expression on his face, “What information do you seek to find with this book?”

 

Shuichi looks at the front of the book. It’s old and tattered, the words upon it too faded for him to decipher. He swallows,“I…  general information on the variations of the disease. Yeah.”

 

Korekiyo nods, “Chapter 3. Here, you may photograph the pages.”

 

He holds the book out to Shuichi, who takes it from him gingerly. The book is heavier than he had expected, and he nearly drops it. He dips his head, “Thank you, Korekiyo.”

 

Shuichi takes pictures of the pages that look interesting before he hands the book back to the anthropologist. As Shuichi gives it back to Korekiyo, he swears he detects the beginnings of a smile forming behind the anthropologist’s mask.

 

“Of course.”

 

\---

 

The sound of banging jolts Shuichi awake. 

 

He doesn’t respond at first, only moving when the knocking increases both in volume and in frequency. With a yawn, Shuichi gets out of bed. One of his roommates is already gone, the top bunk on the opposite bed vacant. Ryoma, on the other hand, is just emerging from the clutches of slumber. The red-haired boy sits up, rubbing his eyes,“What’s going on?”

 

His voice is low and gravely with fatigue. Shuichi shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at Ryoma,“I don’t know. I didn’t invite anyone over…”

 

Shuichi plods over to the door and looks out the peephole. One green-blue eye stares back at him,“Yoo-hoo! Shuichi, are you awake?”

 

Shuichi rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath. He hears Ryoma fall back onto his bed as he unlocks the door. Angie stands on the other side, fully dressed and bursting with energy. Her smile triples in size upon seeing Shuichi, “Shuichi! Get dressed and lets gooooo!”

 

Shuichi stares, his expression blank. Angie’s smile droops, and she clutches her hands to her chest, pouting, “Oh no, you didn’t forget, did you? You need to go shopping!”

 

_ Forget? Forget what? _ Shuichi almost says, before the conversation he had with Angie and her group of friends floods back into his consciousness. 

 

He had agreed to go to a party.

 

_ Again. _

 

\---

 

Music plays over the speakers, the sound of classical piano blanketing the ballroom with a soft, relaxing ambience. An air of class and poise hangs over the room, and the sound of bubbly laughter floats over the soft chatter of the party-goers.

 

This party is different than the other that Shuichi had attended. Unlike the frat parties, the volume of the room is not overwhelming, and any drinking is controlled. Shuichi nearly feels calm amongst all the good-natured banter.

 

The event is hosted by an older student with black curls and cold, red eyes. Shuichi only knows her from a picture he had seen of her in the past. But when he looks upwards, he sees the host gliding down one of the two winding stairs on the edges of the room, her dress billowing out around her. When she reaches the floor, party goers move to the side to let her through, as if she were some sort of holy figure. As she comes closer to Shuichi, he finds that she reeks of money and fine wine. 

 

Her eyes ghost over Shuichi’s form as she passes. Shuichi doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or not when she nods to him. All he knows is that suddenly Rantaro has his arm and is pulling him towards the smaller ballroom, Tsumugi on his other side. The house is enormous, with wide rooms and vaulted ceilings. Ornate carvings decorate the posts that hold up the roof, and Shuichi notices that the stairwells that flank the room are made entirely out of marble.

 

Rantaro releases Shuichi’s arm, and he is brought back into reality. Shuichi soon finds that Rantaro and Tsumugi have left him in favor of dancing. It’s not like Shuichi minds - he’s not big on dancing, anyways. He leaves the floor, making a beeline towards the refreshment table. There’s only few people milling around the table, many of them talking and sipping alcohol from crystal wine glasses. 

 

Shuichi declines one guest’s offer of alcohol. He grabs a water bottle instead, screwing open the lid and drinking it slowly. He’s the designated driver for the night, responsible for getting his friends home safely.

Shuichi’s not lost on the fact that his friends really only asked him to come because they needed a driver, and they knew he didn’t drink. He didn’t mind - from what they’d told him, he would like it, and so far, he has.

 

Shuichi loses sight of his friends after a few minutes when crowd on the dance floor swallows them up into its mass. Shuichi doesn’t bother going after them. He simply caps his water bottle and leans against the wall, relaxing. He does little more than observe as the party continues on without him. 

 

Shuichi sees a dark form coming towards him out of the corners of his eyes. He turns, and is met with the grin of the party’s host.

 

She places her hand on his, “Hello, Shuichi, I’m glad to make your acquaintance.”

 

Shuichi resists the urge to pull his hand away, “Oh… hi… how do you know my name?” 

 

The woman laughs, and it’s a short, calculated noise. Shuichi feels a shiver climb up his spine, as if her cold hands were gliding over his back instead of his knuckles.

 

Mercifully, she lets his hand go, “It would not be fit for a host to be unaware as to who’s attending her party, would it? My name is Celestia Ludenberg, but please, call me Celeste.”

Shuichi nods numbly. The woman’s mere presence is enough to chill him to the bone.

 

“Oh… nice to meet you too, Celeste.”

 

The woman nods, her smile never wavering, “The pleasure is all mine, Shuichi. But I notice you are alone… Why is that?”

 

Shuichi cringes under her gaze, but tries not to let his discomfort show, “I don’t like to dance.”

 

“I see, that is understandable.” Celeste says before she pauses, clasping her hands together, “But truthfully... I came to see you because one of your friends told me that you may be interested in my library. It’s quite vast, and it’s currently open for viewing - I can lead you there now, if you’d like. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

 

Despite his wariness of the woman, Shuichi nods, his curiosity far outweighing his fear. He lets Celeste guide him out of the ballroom and into a wide hallway, decorate with large paintings and dark green plants. They make a series of turns into increasingly smaller hallways until they reach an old door that sticks out from all the rest. A gold plaque hangs above it, and Shuichi can just make out the words “Ludenberg Library.”

 

Celeste pushes the door open and beckons for Shuichi to follow her inside. When he enters, his jaw drops. The room feels infinite, every shelf jam-packed with books from the floor to ceiling. Not a single layer of dust can be seen, but the drooping wood of the shelves and the aged, yellow pages of the books reveal the library’s lengthy past. Shuichi can scarcely believe his eyes, awestruck by the magnificence of the mountains upon mountains of books.

 

Celeste smiles slyly, “Impressive, isn’t it?”

 

Shuichi nods. He moves forward as if entranced, his gaze locked on the shelves. The collection is remarkable, housing everything from ancient books to early classics. As Shuichi peruses the library, lost in thought, he hears footsteps. He turns and is met with a familiar face.

 

“Hello Shuichi.”

 

A boy, tall in stature and dressed in black, looks down at Shuichi. The detective dips his head in greeting, “Hi Korekiyo.”

 

Shuichi’s gaze falls to the book Korekiyo is holding. It’s old, and its cover is faded, but Shuichi can tell that it is hand-bound. Shuichi gestures to the book, “Oh, were you reading that”

 

Korekiyo pulls the book out from under his arm and hands it to Shuichi, “I was, yes - I’ve finished now. However, I believe that you would find this one to be quite… intriguing.”

 

Shuichi turns the book over and reads the title in his head.  _ Professor Idabashi’s Study on Hanahaki: Volume 1, _ “It’s about hanahaki, right?”

 

Korekiyo nods, “You are correct. I think you will find much of the information you are looking for in these pages.”

 

Shuichi opens his mouth to reply, but Celeste interrupts him, strolling down the shelves towards them, “You are free to keep that book if you wish to. I have no need for it in my library.”

 

Shuichi looks at the book then up to Celeste, “Really?”

 

She nods, and Shuichi smiles, “Thank you, Celeste, that’s kind of you.”

 

“Of course - you’re free to visit anytime you wish.”

 

With that, she leaves, and Korekiyo and Shuichi browse her personal library well into the night.

 

\---

 

Shuichi’s phone rings in the middle of class.

 

The professor shoots him a withering look, and Shuichi declines the call as fast as possible. Under the table, he switches his phone to silent and shoves it into his backpack. When class is finally over, Shuichi removes the phone from his backpack and checks it for texts or missed calls. He’d missed two calls, both from different doctors. The voicemail they leave speaks about potential surgery he could undergo, and one of them even advises him to consider transplants if the problem persists. 

 

Shuichi doesn’t call them back.

 

\---

 

The kitchen is a disaster. Batter spills onto the floor, and a thin layer of flour carpets almost every inch of the tiny space. Angie, who’s decorating the cookies with glee, seems to be having the time of her life. Shuichi, meanwhile, tries his best to not think about the massive mess that they are going to have to clean up as he whisks the remainder of the batter together. A timer goes off, and Angie runs to the oven, “The cookies are ready!” 

 

The cookies in question are pulled out of the oven. Angie vibrates with excitement as she sets them down on the counter to cool. The half-dozen of oatmeal raisin cookies on the sheet smell pleasant, fresh and radiating warmth. Shuichi peers down at the cookies.

 

“They look good, Angie.” 

 

Angie beams at him, her smile radiant, “Thank you, Shuichi! Are you ready to make the second batch?”

 

Shuichi glances down at the bowl of batter to find that it’s nearly full. His face falls - he’s going to be baking for a long time. Angie prances towards him and presses her cheek to his shoulder, “Shuichi, why do you look so down? This will be fun, I promise! Simply allow the will of the cookie gods to be yours!” 

 

Angie takes the bowl of batter from the table and pulls Shuichi towards a vacant cookie tray, “Go, make the cookies! Heed their commands, Shuichi!” 

 

With a sigh, Shuichi relents. The pair end up making cookies for the better half of the Sunday morning. Mercifully, Rantaro and Ryoma both offer to help them clean up in exchange for some of their baked goods.

Shuichi finds he’s in a much better mood when they’re finished. As if anticipating his thoughts, Angie places her hands on his shoulders, “So Shuichi, did you have fun?

 

He nods, “I did, thank you for inviting me to help, Angie.”

 

“Good! Take all the cookies you wish - I will spread the word of our treats to the dorm!”

 

With that, Angie is gone as fast as she had arrived. As he watches her skip down the corridor, he feels fluttering in his chest.  _ Oh no,  _  he thinks, his face pale. He darts to the privacy of the bathroom, coughing violently. He gags, and his eyes water.

 

Four daffodil petals, speckled with blood, fall into his hands.

 

\---

 

Shuichi sits in the back of the library, squinting at his computer screen. He reads the definition of hanahaki disease in his head.

 

_ “Hanahaki Disease is a potentially fatal illness caused by the activation of hanahaki seeds ingested into the lungs. While most of the population has hanahaki seeds dormant in their bodies, certain bodies do not realize that the seeds are a threat. In addition, the hanahaki plant only grows in the lungs, making it a parasitic plant. Hanahaki has been known to affect mammals, birds, and even reptiles. The disease affects approximately 10% of adolescents who develop unrequited, typically romantic, interest during puberty. While no clear cause for this disease is known, it is hypothesized that the influx of hormones during puberty makes adolescents prime hosts for the Hanahaki parasite. _

 

_ Symptoms include a sore throat, coughing, nausea, vomiting, and expulsion of flowers from the mouth or nose. In most cases, symptoms resolve over time. Hosts over the age of 18 will rarely, if ever, suffer adverse effects from hanahaki. Surgical removal of the plant system is used in extreme cases, but results in the numbing of emotion for some time. Left untreated, hanahaki disease can be fatal. Frequent vomiting and blood loss can lead to esophageal cancer, anemia, ulcers, weight loss, and fatigue.The plant system itself can puncture lungs, restrict airways, and cause lung cancer. Poisonous strains of plants may also cause chemical poisoning.” _

 

Shuichi frowns. He’s not an adolescent anymore, so why is he still coughing up flower petals at age eighteen, two years after his “successful” surgery?

 

The next thing he does is pour over his copy of the old medical book on hanahaki that he took from Celeste’s library. Unlike newer medical handbooks, this one is fraught with illegible handwriting and strange words. But overall, the language is surprisingly scientific and logical. The variations of hanahaki mentioned, too, are more diverse, including adults as well as adolescents. The old book even speaks about odd variations of hanahaki that Shuichi can only find after thoroughly searching for it online. 

 

The variation of the disease that stands out the most to him is classified as chronic, overactive, and multi-target hanahaki. Its real name is nearly impossible to for Shuichi to pronounce, but it describes his symptoms perfectly. According to the book, it’s exceedingly rare, too. A quick search confirms no cases have been diagnosed recently. Shuichi sighs, thumbing his fingers over the cover of the book.

 

“Interesting, no?”

 

He looks up to see Korekiyo standing at the other side of the table. The library copy of the newer hanahaki book is tucked under his arm. Korekiyo sits down, opening the book to a seemingly random page. Shuichi nods, “Yes, it is.” 

 

They sit in the quiet of the library for a few minutes, reading. Shuichi watches Korekiyo out of the corner of his eye. He seems focused on his book, but looks up when Shuichi clears his throat, “I am curious - why have you chosen to study hanahaki? Is someone you know suffering from it, or is your interest merely a curiosity of circumstance?”

 

Korekiyo’s question comes when Shuichi is three fourths through reading his page. His grip on the book tightens. He supposes he has nothing to lose by telling him the truth.

 

“I have it.”

 

Korekiyo nods, and Shuichi almost doesn’t hear his response.

 

“As do I.”

 

Shuichi is at a loss for words. He didn’t expect a comment, much less an admittance of having hanahaki as well. As he processes the anthropologist’s answer, Korekiyo puts down his book,“It is chronic. Painful, too; they are roses. They aggravate my other health issues as well, and that is why I wear a mask.”

 

“Oh.”   
  


Shuichi runs his fingers across the edge of the book’s cover. He doesn’t know what to say or what to keep to himself. In the end, it all tumbles out of his mouth anyway, “My hanahaki is chronic. It flares up a lot, but it’s almost never the same person, or a person I’m romantically interested in.” He pauses, sighing, “It’s confusing, sometimes - the flowers are all different.”

 

Korekiyo stares at Shuichi blankly, and Shuichi sits stock still under his gaze, “I see… how intriguing. The form you speak of is rare, amazingly so.”

 

Shuichi perks up, “You’ve heard of that variation before? I found it in this book.” Shuichi says, gesturing to the book he’s holding.

 

“Yes, I have. In fact, you would be the second case in recorded history if I am correct.”

Shuichi watches Korekiyo page through the newer hanahaki book. How much time has passed is unknown to Shuichi - all he cares about is knowing how to subdue the fluttering pain than dug into his chest. Korekiyo turns the book towards Shuichi and points to a list of symptoms that match his completely. Shuichi is surprised to find it’s mentioned in Korekiyo’s book as well, but he finds close to nothing in modern sources. Shuichi nods, and Korekiyo leans back.

 

“Now, shall we discuss possible treatments?”

 

\--- 

 

Angie and Tsumugi are eating together when Shuichi arrives, setting his dinner down on the table. Ryoma is just small enough to sit in the spot on the booth next to Tsumugi, but if his expression is anything to go by, he isn’t happy about it. The cafeteria is nearly full - a flash storm forced students to take cover wherever possible, and the cafeteria just so happened to be near the central hub of the campus. Shuichi tries to settle into his seat. It’s hard for him to focus on the conversations his friends are having amidst the chaos. 

 

Eventually, the noise becomes too much, and he stands, “I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

 

He excuses himself and all but sprints to the bathroom. Shuichi reaches open and pulls the cool, metal handle and walks inside. There, he’s met with a familiar figure.

 

“Korekiyo?”

 

The anthropologist looks up from his spot on the bench. He’s reading a book Shuichi hasn’t seen before, “Shuichi. Hello.”

 

Shuichi nods, standing in the center of the room, unmoving. Korekiyo raises an eyebrow questioningly, “Is there something you need?”

 

Shuichi shakes his head, shifting the weight on his feet, “No. I’m just here to escape all the noise.”

 

Korekiyo’s mouth twitches, and Shuichi swears he’s smiling.

 

“I see. And a bathroom was your opportune hiding place?”

 

Shuichi resists the urge to melt into the floor, “There wasn’t anywhere else to go. I’m... sorry if I’m bothering you.”

 

Korekiyo chuckles, and Shuichi’s cheeks redden, “H-hey! You’re here too!” He splutters.

 

Shuichi suddenly sees Korekiyo’s grin clearer through the mask he wears, and it dawns on him that the anthropologist was  _ joking _ with him. Shuichi waits for the boy’s grin to subside before he steps closer, pointing to the book in Korekiyo’s hand.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

Korekiyo tilts the book towards him, “It is a book on artifacts from the time of the Incas. They’re truly exquisite.”

 

“Do you have any favorites?”

 

Korekiyo’s eyes light up, “In fact, I do … would you like to see them?” He pats the bench cushion next to him, “Come, sit down.”

 

Shuichi does.

 

\---

 

It’s a late Tuesday night, and Shuichi half-sits, half-lays against his pillows. His computer has grown warm against his legs. Ryoma lays on the bed opposite to Shuichi, his hands clasped over his chest and headphones on. Their third roommate is long gone - they are living abroad this semester, leaving Ryoma and Shuichi alone. Shuichi doesn’t mind their departure. The student hadn’t spoken much to Shuichi or Ryoma during the time they’d lived together, anyways.

 

At eleven, Shuichi stops typing and looks over at Ryoma. His eyes are narrowed, and his forehead is creased.

 

“Ryoma?”

 

Ryoma’s expression relaxes, and he pulls his headphones down, “Yes?”

 

“What are you listening too?”

 

“Cat videos.”

 

“Oh… did you have cats?”

 

“I did, at home.”

 

Shuichi waits expectantly for Ryoma to answer him, however, the boy is quiet. Eventually, Shuichi gathers the courage to ask him another question, “Do you miss them?”

 

Ryoma’s answer is nearly instant.

 

“Always.” 

 

The cocktail of sadness that creeps into Ryoma’s voice is hard to ignore. Shuichi feels a pang of guilt in his chest. While he had been out with Angie and the others, Ryoma had stayed here, alone. 

 

“Ryoma? Would you like to go to the cat café in the city this weekend? It’s… a bit far, but I can drive.”

 

Shuichi sees the corners of the boy’s mouth rise, and Ryoma nods his head slowly, “I’d like that.” Ryoma says, carefully placing his headphones and phone onto the desk by his bed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Shuichi.”

 

Shuichi can barely contain his grin, “Good night, Ryoma.”

 

Ryoma grunts and rolls over in response. A few moments later, Shuichi follows the other boy’s example and puts his computer back on his desk. His eyes trace the edges of the ceiling tiles as time passes, sleep evading him until suddenly, Shuichi feels a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He jolts up into a sitting position, wide-eyed and clutching his chest.

 

He coughs, loudly. By some miracle, it doesn’t wake Ryoma. 

 

Shuichi coughs again, and this time, a bluebell petal flutters down onto his covers.

 

\---

 

The office is as drab and unwelcoming as his first visit a year ago for his physical. A fat, old clock hangs precariously above the front desk, and the receptionist looks like the antithesis of welcoming. Shuichi walks up to the desk to check in, somehow manages to survive the interaction, and enters the waiting room. There, he sits on one of the black plastic chairs. Dull and lifeless, the room is empty aside from the stiff chairs and a forlorn coffee table placed in the center of the floor.

 

A nurse appears with a clipboard in hand, “Shuichi?”

 

He stands and walks through a door behind the nurse who called his name. The nurse checks his height and weight before sending him into a check-up room.

 

Minutes pass. Eventually, a woman walks into the room. She introduces herself to him, but Shuichi doesn’t catch her name. It isn’t like it matters, anyways - she’s not his usual doctor.

 

They speak for ten minutes. When they finish talking, the doctor looks up at him. She doesn’t smile.

 

“In your case, I do believe another surgery would be the best option.”

 

\---

 

Nearly everything in this hospital is the same as the last one he had been to. It’s sterile and unwelcoming, filled with sick and injured people. Shuichi feels too nervous to stay in the waiting room, and ends up stepping out so that he can be alone. Outside, his stomach growls. He’d been fasting since last night, and they’re bringing him in early to monitor his vitals before the surgery.

 

His name is called.

 

Shuichi hears it from just outside the doors and rushes inside, murmuring an apology to the nurse. He smiles and leads Shuichi into a room. Machines flank the bed in the center, and the nurse directs Shuichi to sit. 

 

His vitals are normal. The nurse leaves, and a few minutes later, three hospital workers come in. They hook him up to more machines and monitors than he can count on both his hands. Then comes the needle for the IV, bringing with it a momentary, stinging pain.

 

The last thing Shuichi remembers is one of the nurses hooking up a bag of fluid to the IV attached to his arm, and his world spinning before he fades into unconsciousness. 

 

\---

 

Shuichi wakes up, disoriented and in pain.    
  
Nurses are there to great him. In the haze, he vaguely remembers them telling him his surgery was a success and that he’ll be sore for a bit.

 

Some other medical staff come in and list the medication he needs to take. Shuichi only grasps the names - everything else is white noise to him. 

 

It doesn’t matter how many drugs, when, or why he needs to take them.

 

All that matters is that he is finally free.

 

\---

 

Shuichi is on summer break.

 

He doesn’t understand how he keeps ending up in the center of crowds of students he doesn’t know. The invitation to this particular venue came from Kaede, and he regrets accepting it just minutes after stepping through the door. He can barely focus on anything but the music pouring out of the two massive speakers at the front of the room.

 

A hand reaches out to grab his arm. 

 

Whoever has a hold on him pulls him towards the edge of the of the crowd, and Shuichi is too numbed by the music to react. Once they’re farther away from the throng of people, his abductor whips around.

 

She’s a strawberry blonde girl with blue eyes, and she’s frowning at him.

 

“So limpdick,  _ you’re _ Kaede’s boy toy?”

 

The girl looks Shuichi up and down. He feels naked as her eyes rake over his torso, as if she’s undressed him without physically removing his clothes. Her surveying complete, the girls folds her arms. A wicked smirk appears on her face,  “Hah! Looks like I don’t have much competition after all.”

 

Shuichi fumbles for a response. As he tries to collect his thoughts, Kaede is spat out from the writhing mass of students. She launches herself into Shuichi’s arms, and instantly, the other girl is forgotten. He hugs her back, relaxing into her familiar embrace. She pulls back and looks at him with a big, dopey smile, “Shuichi! I missed you.”

 

Shuichi smiles, even though his chest feels almost empty when he looks at her. The emotions that had been taken from him due to surgery have come back, but he still only slightly feels affection for his long-time friend.

 

“Hey Kaede, I missed you too.”

 

As Kaede beams at him with adoration, the strawberry blonde waves her hands in front of Kaede’s face. She looks back and forth between him and Kaede.

  
“Uh, hello! Don’t you want to know the name of this gorgeous girl genius?” 

 

Shuichi opens his mouth to respond.

 

“I-”

 

He isn’t fast enough. Miu’s voice thunders over his.

 

“Well no need to drool, I’ll tell you! I’m Miu Iruma, and don’t forget it, virgin.”

 

Shuichi nods slowly, a mixture of concern and confusion blossoming on his face. From behind him, Kaede pales. She takes Miu by the wrist and hauls her away, miming the words “I’m sorry” to Shuichi. He is so put off kilter by the situation that he doesn’t register a tall, athletic man sneaking up behind him.

 

“Shuichi!”

 

A familiar voice rings in his ears, and strong arms wrap around his waist. Shuichi is lifted into the air and spun around twice before being set gently onto the ground. When he gains his bearings, he looks up to see Kaito behind him with an ear to ear grin that threatens to split his face in two.

 

Shuichi’s wide eyed look of surprise melts off of his face, and he smiles at the boy. Kaito doesn’t waste time pulling him back in for a bone-crushing hug,“Man! It’s been so long since I’ve talked to you, Shuichi - how’s it going?”

 

Shuichi hugs Kaito back, though he doesn’t grip him quite as strong, “It’s going good. Sorry I haven’t called much, I’ve been busy with work.”

 

Kaito and Shuichi separate, but Kaito leaves his hand on Shuichi’s shoulder. 

 

“Don’t worry about it - I get it. Come on, you gotta meet the others.”

 

_ Others? _ Shuichi wonders. He doesn’t have much time to think - Kaito, much like Miu had minutes before, takes Shuichi by the arm and drags him back onto the floor. Bodies press in around them as Kaito plows through the throngs of party-goers. Shuichi speeds up so that he isn’t left behind, staying as close to Kaito as he can. The boy leads him to a destination far from their meeting point away from the crowd. The noise increases until they break out of the mass of people and head right.

 

The hallway they enter is long and narrow. The ceilings are covered in glowing neon lights, and the walls are sheathed in reflective metal. Shuichi’s reflection is distorted, a mess of colors in a form vaguely representing himself. Shuichi’s gaze falls to the floor. The tiles underneath them are glittery silver, soft yet brilliant.

 

When Kaito turns, Shuichi’s head snaps up. They’ve entered a small room with dim lights and luxurious sofas. Immediately, Shuichi notices the people sitting and standing around the room. Their gazes fall upon him, and Shuichi tenses. Kaede, who had been leaning against the wall, rushes forward to Shuichi’s side.

She puts her arm around his waist as if she were a superhero swooping in to save him from disaster, “Hey everyone! This is my friend Shuichi. Do you guys want to go around and introduce yourselves to him?”

 

The first to speak is an energetic girl with pigtails and bright eyes.

 

“My name is Tenko Chabashira!”

 

The second is a petite red-head who’s nearly dozing off.

 

“Hi… I’m Himiko.”

 

The third is a hulking muscle of a boy with long, wild hair and glasses.

 

“Hello! I am Gonta Gokuhara.”

 

The fourth is a short boy with a devious smirk playing on his lips.

  
“Aww, hi Shuichi! Welcome to the gang. I’m Kokichi.”

 

The fifth is boy with messy blonde hair and blue eyes.

 

“I am Kiibo. It is nice to meet you, Shuichi.”

 

The last is a woman with an impassive face and tired eyes.

 

“You may call me Kirumi. My surname is Tojo - It is a pleasure to meet you.”

 

They drill him with a few more basic questions before returning to their conversations. Kaito slips into the group and Shuichi feels, for not the first time this night, completely and utterly alone. As Shuichi watches the group speak, he begins to creep towards the edges of the room, out of sight. Not even Kaede remembers to speak with him aside from the occasional remark.

 

Shuichi’s head hurts. He feels like his skull is being squished by a hot clamp, and his stomach gurgles. Nausea grips Shuichi as he feels bile rise in his throat. Knowing what is imminent, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. 

 

Shuichi races down the hall, bolts into an unoccupied stall, and vomits into the toilet. It comes out in horrible, acidic waves, and he’s powerless to stop it. As is comes, his throat burns and he coughs, a mixture of blood and stomach acid dribbling down his chin. Shuichi is left shaking, looking down into the toilet with horror in his eyes.

 

A single, fresh cherry blossom swirls amidst the bright red blood and stomach acid, taunting him.

 


	3. It Goes On

Shuichi spends his summer at his uncle and aunt’s house.

 

The change of scenery is pleasant. Unlike his college, his uncle and aunt’s house is tucked away in relative solitude. A wide, yet lightly bedded woodland hugs the edges of their house, providing Shuichi with a perfect place to hide away in and relax.

 

It is on one of the hottest days in tail-end of July that Shuichi finds himself sitting on the edge of a gently swaying dock on the lake behind his aunt’s old tool shed.  The water laps lazily at his submerged feet, and he squints in the harsh sunlight. He shields his eyes with his hand and brings his gaze down to peer across the lake’s surface. A ways away, Shuichi sees a fish leap out of the water and into the sky. Moments later, it falls back into the water with a splash. 

 

Shuichi yawns and rubs his eyes. Sweat drips down his back and he kicks his legs in the water. The lake’s cool touch feels like a blessing against his warm skin, and he sighs.

 

_ QUACK! _

 

Shuichi’s whole body tenses. He whips his head around just in time to see a duck alight on the dock behind him. Immediately, Shuichi relaxes and smiles. The bird seems happy to see him, waddling towards Shuichi with his tail wagging and beak open. 

 

Shuichi chuckles - the duck had been rehabilitated by his uncle, and he never quite left after he fully healed. The mallard places his head on Shuichi’s leg, and Shuichi pets him. The duck, encouraged by Shuichi’s friendliness, crawls onto his lap.

 

“Hey!” Shuichi squawks.

 

Shuichi’s protests go unnoticed. The duck settles in his lap and begs Shuichi for scratches. Shuichi lasts only thirty seconds before he reluctantly gives in, petting him on the back.

The duck and the boy sit together until Shuichi hears his uncle calling him in for lunch. Shuichi sighs, looking down at the duck apologetically, “Sorry buddy, I gotta go.” 

 

He waits a moment before he carefully places the duck to his side and stands. The mallard, seeing that Shuichi is leaving, wastes little time in fluffing up his feathers and launching himself into the sky. 

 

Shuichi watches him go.

 

He stretches out with a yawn before he trods back to his uncle’s house. The path back is made of stone that has grown mossy over the years. Trees arch across the walkway and provide blissful relief from the scorching summer sun. The journey, though not long, is uphill. He reaches the house in less than a minute, but he’s still out of breath by the time he walks into the kitchen. 

 

The room is cozy and bright. A fan whirs in the corner by the fridge, sending a column of cool air towards Shuichi. His uncle stands by the counter, cutting up a tomato. When Shuichi enters the kitchen, the man smiles and turns to face him, “Hi Shuichi - It’s hot out there, isn’t it?”

 

Shuichi nods, and his uncle sets a plate with a sandwich on top of it on the table.

 

“I made you a bologna sandwich - unfortunately that’s the only cold cuts we have in now; any special requests for when I go to the store today?”

 

Shuichi shakes his head, “I’m fine, thank you. Whatever you usually get is good. I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

His uncle waves dismissively, “Oh, come on now - you’ll never be a burden! We love having you around.” 

 

Shuichi smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

 

With that, he sits down to eat.

 

\---

 

It’s nearly eleven at night, and Shuichi can’t sleep. The sound of distant chatter and soft snoring is all he can hear.

 

His stomach gurgles.

 

He lies in bed for a few more minutes before he gives up on sleep and throws on his shoes. He walks out of the room quietly so that he does not to disturb his roommate. The hallway, Shuichi finds, is mostly empty. Shuichi sees a few students gathering near open doors and laughing. From their behavior, he guesses that many of them are intoxicated.

 

He slips past the group, down the narrow, winding stairs, and out of the door. The cool of night embraces Shuichi as he heads towards a small circular intersection and turns left. The library’s doors loom in front of him, most of the lights already off. Shuichi tugs on the door, and it opens without much resistance. He walks inside to find that he’s not the only one here, and that his pajamas are not out of place. Two other students, also dressed in their pajamas, stand near the vending machine in the lobby. 

 

Shuichi gets in line behind them. They’re older students, and he doesn’t recognize them. The shorter one is a blonde, and the taller has light grey hair. The boy wears a dark set of pajamas with a dragon insignia on their breast pocket and the pockets of his pants. The girl, meanwhile, has on simple sweatpants and an oversized shirt decorated with soft, fuzzy kittens.

 

The boy slams his fist on the machine.

 

“Fuckin’ hell!”

 

Shuichi starts at the sudden noise. His card digs into his palm, and his muscles tense. However, the female does not seem startled. She simply takes the money from the boy, flips it, and inserts it into the machine. The money goes in without resistance, and a bag of chips drops down. 

 

The boy’s face reddens exponentially. He stoops down to wrestle the bag from the machine and walks off, muttering profanities under his breath. The girl follows him, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. Shuichi watches them go before stepping up to the vending machine and punching in the code for a snack bar. He inserts his card and the bar drops. As he leans to pick it up, his foot nudges against a set of keys.

 

Shuichi picks up the keys with his free hand, pocketing the bar with his other hand. The keys have the same insignia on them as the boy had on his clothes. Immediately, Shuichi runs out of the library, his head whipping around to try and locate the boy. In the distance, he sees the boy and the girl jogging away. 

 

Shuichi puts his head down and runs off after them. His shoes come untied, and he stops abruptly to lean done and tie them. He keeps his eyes on the pair as he loops his laces together.

 

By some stroke of luck, the boy stops. Shuichi gets up and runs to him. As he approaches, the girl turns and takes a position next to the boy, assuming a defensive stance. 

 

“Why are you following him?”

 

The girl’s voice is monotone, but edged with poison. Shuichi stops like he’s hit a wall. He moves his gaze towards the boy and holds out the keys. They jingle when he jolts then forwards, “Oh, um, you dropped your keys.”

 

The girls looks at the keys with a blank expression. The boy’s face, however, softens, “Hmph. Thanks for getting them for me.”

 

His voice is less gruff when he talks this time, and Shuichi nods,“Yeah, it’s no trouble.”

 

The trio is left in an awkward silence. Suddenly, the boy smiles and holds out his hand, “My name is Fuyuhiko, nice to meet you,” he says, jabbing his thumb towards the girl, “And that’s Peko.”

 

Shuichi takes his hand and shakes it, “I’m Shuichi Saihara, a second year student.”

 

The girl keeps her arms close to her sides, offering Shuichi a nod instead of a handshake. Fuyuhiko grins and hooks his hands loosely into his pockets, “I’m third year, and so is Peko - guess we’ll see ya around, Shuichi.”

 

The boy nods to Shuichi before he walks off, Peko following close behind him. 

 

\---

 

Tsumugi’s head rests against Shuichi’s shoulder as she nods in and out of sleep. The TV drones on in the background, its images blurry and sounds muffled. 

 

Shuichi yawns, rubbing his eyes. He feels Tsumugi shift beside him, her glasses going askew. Briefly, Shuichi considers righting them.

 

He doesn’t.

 

Instead, he squints at the clock above the TV - it’s past midnight by now. The city around him is wide awake, the sounds of cars, music, and laughter filtering in through the half-opened window behind them. A draft of cold air makes the hair on the back of Shuichi’s head prickle.

 

Silently, as not the disturb the Tsumugi, he stands. He’s almost completely off of the couch when she moves. Tsumugi adjusts her glasses and looks at him with glossy, unfocused eyes, “Shuichi? Oh dear… what time is it?” 

 

Shuichi shuffles to the side awkwardly to give her a better view of the clock perched atop the TV, “It’s late - uh, sorry for falling asleep on you.”

 

She waves off his apology and stands, stretching. Tsumugi is taller than him, even when they are both standing. Her hair, normally straight and well groomed, poofs out to the side. She smiles, despite the dark grey bags underneath her eyes, “It’s fine! Don’t worry… I don’t get many guests, so I’m always happy to have you for as long as you’d like to stay. I have a spare room if you need it!”

 

Shuichi mirrors her smile, although his is a bit less enthusiastic and doesn’t quite reach his eyes,“Thank you, but it’s okay. The bus comes in twenty minutes, I can catch that.”

 

A look of disappointment flashes across Tsumugi’s face for a fleeting half-second, but it’s gone before Shuichi can question it. She backs off and goes around the couch to fold the blanket they had been sitting on. 

 

Tsumugi doesn’t look at Shuichi when she speaks, “Oh, good. Be careful out there.”

 

Shuichi fidgets with the edge of his shirt. He knows how to take a hint, “Thanks; goodnight Tsumugi.”

 

She waves, and Shuichi turns away. As he leaves, he doesn’t feel the usual incessant fluttering in his chest, no matter how much he thinks about his friend.

 

Maybe, just maybe, he’s finally out of the woods.

 

\---

 

Shuichi pulls his jacket tighter around him. The chill of the oncoming winter creeps into the holes in the fabric, eliciting a shiver from Shuichi. Around the campus, a few other students are rushing to their classes, bundled up tightly. Even at two in the afternoon, the temperature only just barely reaches 45º fahrenheit. 

 

Shuichi feels a presence beside him, and his eyes flicker upwards. The boy’s hair nearly covers his face, but Shuichi recognizes him immediately.

 

“Hi Kiyo.” 

 

Korekiyo wrangles his hair from his face and nods to Shuichi, who can’t help but smile. Yellow eyes narrow in response, “What is it?”

 

Shuichi simply laughs, a warm feeling spreading across his chest, “Your hair. It’s… funny to see it messed up. You usually keep it neat.”

 

Korekiyo’s eyes narrow even further, his lips pursed, “Yes.”

 

They walk on in silence. Shuichi is grateful to have Korekiyo beside him, the boy’s taller form blocking most of the biting wind. Korekiyo is bundled up just as much as Shuichi is. In fact, he’s almost comically overdressed. With all his layers, Korekiyo appears nearly twice as wide as he is usually. 

 

When he talks again, it is difficult for Shuichi to hear him over the gusts of wind, “You are familiar with the story of Cinderella, yes?”

 

Korekiyo’s eyes are still narrowed, but his face is no longer tense. Shuichi nods his head in response, and Korekiyo continues, “You may believe that it is a fairytale about a young woman becoming the wife of a nobleman, a king, or a prince. Yet, at its core, the story is deeply tied not to marriage or to love, but to an article of clothing: a slipper. Intriguing, isn’t it? Humanity’s tie to different objects has prevailed through time and across countries. Very few of the stories exist without mention of the slipper, whether it is made of gold or of glass.”

 

Shuichi follows Korekiyo’s explanation intently. Hearing him speak so passionately about seemingly mundane subjects feels perplexing as it is interesting, “I never thought about it like that… Is the fairy godmother in all of the stories?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. The magic mentioned differs from story to story. In some early variations, there is little at all, and in others, the magic comes from trees and birds - you do remember our discussion on birds?”

 

Shuichi does. It had been late, and Shuichi had been nodding off over his textbook when Korekiyo walked into the library. Shuichi had peeled himself off of the table and listened to the anthropologist lecture him on avians well into the night.

 

It wasn’t as if Shuichi had minded, either. Korekiyo had a way with words that made everything simple to understand, and anthropology was intriguing. Even now, as Korekiyo speaks to him in the frigid tail-end of Autumn, Shuichi is not distracted. In fact, he is captured by Korekiyo’s voice and his stories.

 

“I do.”

 

Shuichi’s delayed response earns him a look from the anthropologist. Shuichi isn’t sure if it’s annoyance, curiousity, or amusement. 

 

Korekiyo doesn’t leave him much time to ponder, however.

 

“Well then, that is good. I shall begin where we left off. Now, as I have just explained, the slippers in…”

 

\---

 

Spring’s arrival comes quickly.

 

Shuichi stretches and turns over in his bed.. At last, he’s no longer waking up shivering, his clothes layered upon his body as if he were a coat rack. The sheets smells fresh, and his pillow is soft. As he buries his head into it, he thinks briefly about how glad he is that his aunt convinced him to take one from home. 

 

As much as Shuichi wants to lay down and never get up, the sunlight pouring through his window coaxes him back into the land of the living. With a deep breath in, he sits up. Ryoma is already awake, sitting on his bed with his 3DS in his hands. He looks over at Shuichi, “Morning.”

 

Shuichi swings his legs over the side of the bed, “Good morning, Ryoma. What are you playing?”

 

Ryoma turns the screen towards Shuichi, who has to squint to see it clearly.

 

“Animal Crossing? I thought you’ve beat that before…?”

 

Ryoma chuckles, “You’d be surprised how much you miss on a first playthrough.”

 

Shuichi can’t exactly argue. It’s true - it’s easy to miss the smaller details on the first run of a game.  The room falls quiet, save for the faint music that comes from the speakers of Ryoma’s 3DS. Ryoma abruptly shuts off his game and looks at Shuichi.

 

“Hey, do you want to go to that cafe again? You can bring Korekiyo.”

 

Shuichi’s brows raise. He didn’t expect to hear that from Ryoma.

 

“I thought you didn’t like him?”

 

Ryoma shrugs, “He likes cats - Sphynx cats. I can respect that.”

 

Shuichi laughs. He can’t help it.

 

“You like him now because you know he likes cats?”

 

Ryoma’s expression doesn’t falter.

 

“Yes.”

 

\---

 

Shuichi stalks across the library with the stealth of a hunting tiger, scouring the shelves for the perfect novel. He passes his thumb over the book’s spines, his eyes flickering over the titles. The scent of old paper and dusty carpets fill his nose. It’s a nostalgic smell, bringing forth memories of his childhood spent curled up in bed with his favorite books. He smiles, stopping to pull a book from the shelf. As he’s reading the summary, Shuichi hears someone approach.

 

“Hello, Shuichi. What are you in search of?”

 

Shuichi turns the book over and returns it to its spot on the shelf. He sighs, “Not much, just browsing. What are you here for, Kiyo?”

 

The anthropologist’s gaze falls upon the bookshelves, “I find the library to be relaxing, and I assume you feel the same.”

 

Shuichi bobs his head in agreement. He had loved libraries when he was a kid, and that hasn’t changed now. Korekiyo stays, accompanying Shuichi as he searches for a new novel to read. It’s nice having Korekiyo with him instead of browsing alone like he had in the past. The anthropologist and the detective have definitely bonded over their shared affinity for literature over time.

 

The detective pulls out what must be his fifteen novel and reads the summary on the back.  It mentions a character with a mysterious illness that causes them to cough up wilted flowers. Shuichi’s stomach twists upon seeing the name of the disease: hanhanki. 

 

Korekiyo approaches Shuichi and looks down at the book in his hands, “Ah, that is quite a popular novel amongst teens.”

 

“Oh, how is it?”

 

Korekiyo scowls, “It is… bland. Clichés and horribly inaccurate romanticizations of hanahaki do not mix.”

 

Shuichi puts the book back, frowning, “That… that’s awful. How bad was it?”

 

Korekiyo exhales slowly, “The protagonist apparently suffers from a severe case of hanahaki caused by a dying love interest. Yet there is a twist - as he dies, the flowers she coughs up die as well.” Korekiyo says, taking a moment to gather his thoughts,  “However, in reality, wilted or dying flowers are found only in cases of abusive relationships. Making light of such things is simply not sensible.”

 

Shuichi looks back at the book with distaste, “I’m glad I didn’t pick it up, then. That’s an awful subject to use for entertainment.”

 

“Mmm, yes, it is. Such a thing would be simply… horrid.”

 

When Shuichi glances over at Korekiyo, he turns his head away.

 

\---

 

As the year goes on, Shuichi’s classes dissolve into a meaningless blur of lectures, presentations, projects, and tests. Despite how his subjects begin to blend together, he comes out at the end of his year with relatively decent grades. They aren’t perfect by a long shot, but they aren’t awful, either. 

 

He’s average, and that’s fine by him.

 

The hanahaki fades gradually over the span of a year and two months. The pain and the fluttery feelings in his chest appear rarely, if at all. Petals no longer clog his throat, and his stomach doesn’t turn so much. The books he had read on hanahaki leave the forefront of his mind, and instead, he thinks about his coursework and his friends. 

 

Without the disease plaguing his mind and his body, the future seems a little bit brighter.

 

Still, whether or not Shuichi wants to pursue becoming a detective is still up in the air. The first case he solved years back still haunts his dreams, and doesn’t seem to want to give up.

 

Through it all, Shuichi watches his old friends drift away from him. Kaede doesn’t call as much, and Maki doesn’t text him anymore. Even Kaito seems scarce, running from place to place and always appearing busy. The group they introduced him to at the party makes no attempt to contact Shuichi, either, to no surprise.

 

But Angie’s posse, Ryoma, and Korekiyo fill in the gaps.

 

\---

 

Shuichi is sitting in Korekiyo’s dorm chair, watching as the anthropologist perches atop his bed with a laptop balanced on his knees. It’s one of the few times Shuichi has seen him with a computer and not a book. Earlier, they had been conversing in the dorm’s common room. But an influx of noisy students drove Korekiyo to invite Shuichi to talk with him in his room instead. Korekiyo’s roommate recently moved out, making the dorm a spacious, calm environment to stay in.

 

“Is it quieter without your roommate here?” Shuichi asks.

 

Korekiyo doesn’t take his eyes off of his computer, “Yes, I believe so.”

 

Shuichi yawns. He hadn’t slept well last night, and now he’s suffering for it. Keeping his eyes open turns out to be a more difficult task than he had anticipated. He figures talking with Korekiyo will keep him conscious.

 

“Are you used to having siblings around?”

 

Korekiyo stops moving. Shuichi almost thinks he’s been turned to stone until the anthropologist’s eyes flicker upwards.

 

“One. I had a sister.”

 

“Is she your age?”

 

“Older, and she is no longer living.”

 

Shuichi pales. He doesn’t miss the way Korekiyo’s jaw clenches and his shoulders stiffen. There’s something in his eyes that tells Shuichi not to pry further.

 

Shuichi rushes to apologize,“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to -”   
  


Korekiyo holds his hand up, and Shuichi clamps his mouth shut. Korekiyo sighs, “I know that you did not mean to inflict harm, Shuichi. But yes, she was around quite often. I frequently accompanied her on her visits to the hospital.”

 

Shuichi nods, waiting for Korekiyo to continue. Korekiyo pauses to shut his laptop before he speaks again, “She passed away many years ago. It was peaceful death, one that took her while she was sleeping.”

 

“I’m glad she didn’t suffer much in her death.”

 

“As am I. You see, Shuichi, death is the unconquerable. Humanity has long since yearned to harness the power of death and halt its process. Yet it is simply not possible. Death is universal, neither human nor animal. Humanity desires to personify it and to vilianafy it, but it is simply a convenient delusion. Death is not tangible, just as life is not touchable. However, numerous cultures have depicted death as a twisted figure of both darkness and pain. When, in reality, death simply  _ is _ . It does not favor the young, the old, or the middle-aged. It simply takes from them their life with no concept of consciousness.”

 

Korekiyo’s eyes lock onto Shuichi’s, “Do you understand the gravity of death, Shuichi?”

 

The detective doesn’t answer right away, “I… it’s final? Inescapable?”

 

Korekiyo looks upwards. Shuichi feels a shiver go down his back when Korekiyo’s gaze lands on him once again. His eyes are cold.

 

“You are correct.”

 

\---

 

It’s nearly summer when Shuichi’s third roommate leaves to live off-campus. 

 

Having one less student in the tiny space is a welcome relief. Ryoma and Shuichi spilt up the remaining space to store whatever they need. The top bunk on Ryoma’s side becomes extra storage space, and the extra closet becomes a place for dirty clothes, outside shoes, and coats.

 

As nice as it is, there’s a good chance they’ll get another roommate next year if they stay in the dorms. Ryoma brings up the question first.

 

“Shuichi, are you planning on staying here next year?

 

Shuichi thinks for a moment. He hadn’t thought much about living arrangements, even though he did have a somewhat steady income from the work he did on campus. Living off campus is expensive, and a bit of a hassle, too. 

 

“Hmm… I’m not sure. I think I’d be willing to go if I had a few roommates, though. You know, to split the costs?”

 

Ryoma rests his arm on the side of the chair. Luckily, the common area of the dorm is relatively empty and peaceful on early Saturday mornings.

 

“That’s understandable. I would offer to let you be my roommate, but I’m not sure if even the two of us would have enough money to pay for rent.”

 

“Well, what if we got a third roommate?”

 

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

 

Shuichi nods,“Maybe Korekiyo? Angie and her group already are living together. I could ask him today when I see him.”

 

Although he doesn’t say it, Ryoma seems pleased with Shuichi’s decision. So, Shuichi texts the anthropologist and waits for a response.

 

It’s lunchtime when Korekiyo’s reply comes through.

 

_ Maybe. When can we discuss pricing options? _

 

Shuichi smiles. It may not be a definite yes, but it’s a start.

 

\---

 

Shuichi sits on the beat up couch in a corner of the cafeteria next to Korekiyo and Rantaro. Angie and Tsumugi sit on the smaller couch across from them, and Ryoma perches on the armchair diagonal to Shuichi. The detective looks through the window behind Tsumugi. Outside, rain pours onto the pavement, and mist rises up where the cool water splashes onto the hot cement.

 

They’ve decided to talk about their futures together. The first to talk Angie, who tells everyone about of her plans to do art based around her religion when she gets out of college. Her face is bright, and her smile is genuine. Although Shuichi may not be interested much in faith himself, he’s happy she’s found something she has a passion for. Tsumugi, too, is interested in art, but of a different kind: clothing. Shuichi hears Tsumugi promise that she will let Angie help decorate her fashion studio when the time comes.

 

The others talk as well, but Shuichi starts to drift away from reality when Rantaro goes on a long monologue about the places he wants to travel to. In truth, Shuichi is not sure where he wants to go. Although he’s planning on getting a degree in forensics, he doesn’t know if that’s something he’s truly interested in doing for the rest of his life.

 

“And Shuichi, what about you?”

 

Rantaro’s voice snaps Shuichi back to the present. He fumbles to find the right words.

 

“Well, um, uh… a detective. I’d like to be a detective. I haven’t thought much about the details yet, haha.”

 

He feels Korekiyo staring at him without even looking to his left. The anthropologist is no fool - they’ve talked about this very same topic before. Shuichi admitted he had thought about the future, and that he was conflicted about what he wanted to do. But Korekiyo merely nods, and Shuichi’s turn to share is over. 

 

Korekiyo’s body barely moves as he speaks.

 

“In regards to the future, I will be specializing in the anthropological studies of cultures and folklore both nationally, and worldwide. Traveling to different cultural hotspots would be ideal, as would hands-on field work.”

 

Tsumugi claps her hands together, grinning at the anthropologist.

 

“Ooo, how exciting! But Korekiyo, will you travel with anyone? I feel like going alone would be kind of sad, really…”

 

Korekiyo brings his hand up to his chin to adjust his mask.

 

“Perhaps. Whether or not I am accompanied by another is beyond my control. I am not adverse to going alone or in a group. I am solely interested in culture and humanity in its rawest form, whether it chooses to show itself in my chosen place of residence, or in countries that lie thousands of miles away.”

 

There’s a pause, and then Angie gets up to announce that sharing is done. She turns on the TV, the beginnings of a movie flashing onto the screen. Finally, Shuichi relaxes.

 

\---

 

Shuichi goes home the summer after his junior year, too. 

 

But unlike the last, the so-called “break” he has is dominated by work. He is hired at a bookstore, where he stocks the shelves and occasionally works at the cash registers. It is not a huge store, and it is overall a pleasant experience. Yet the social interaction is draining, and every night, Shuichi return to his uncle’s and his aunt’s home weighed down by an immense fatigue.

 

On a particularly harder work day, after his shift is over, Shuichi walks down to the lake. The sun is setting, resembling a fierce red flame hanging in the yellow-orange sky. A cool breeze wraps around his torso as he moves closer to the water.

 

A duck alights near him, quacking at his feet. Shuichi smiles and leans over to pet the bird, who quiets,“How was your day, buddy?”

 

The duck doesn’t respond, and Shuichi is struck in that moment with how much he misses the presence of his friends. A voice calls out to him - his aunt. She tells him that dinner is ready and waiting for him when he comes closer, beckoning him inside. 

 

Although Shuichi cannot see the food, it smells delicious. His aunt leads him to where the scent is the strongest: the dining room. There, his uncle is setting out plates and utensils. The man smiles upon seeing Shuichi,“Welcome home! How was your day?”

 

Shuichi barely manages a fake, limp smile back,“Oh, it was good. Tiring, but good.”

 

His uncle dips his head in response. Seemingly satisfied, he sits down and holds out a piece of meat to Shuichi.

 

“Turkey?”

 

\---

 

Living with Korekiyo and Ryoma isn’t exactly what Shuichi was expecting… especially not all the cats.

 

How in the world Ryoma arranges for them to be in the house as pets is a mystery to Shuichi. When he asks, Ryoma simply says he has connections. Shuichi doesn’t press more after that; something in the other boy’s facial expression tells him that asking would give him absolutely no information. So, Shuichi lives with the cats and tolerates all the cat hair on the furniture.

 

There’s four cats in total. Two are short-hairs, one is long-haired, and the last is hairless. Immediately, the long-haired cat develops a fixation on Shuichi. She sleeps on his bed, hovers around him when he eats, and incessantly tries to curl around his legs with varying degrees of success. Shuichi doesn’t mind it much - he enjoys the company. Relaxing with the cat purring nearby is oddly soothing, and whenever he has a presentation or a test, her affections keeps his nerves from getting the best of him.

 

The hairless cat is aloof, but gravitates towards Korekiyo. He pets him sparingly, and only when the cat wishes for interaction. It’s an arrangement that works out nicely in the end. While the cat doesn’t particularly like cuddling, Shuichi has seen him occasionally curl up and fall asleep on Korekiyo’s lap as he reads. Shuichi would’ve even called it cute, had he known that it would not incur Korekiyo’s wrath.

 

The two remaining short-hairs stick to Ryoma like glue. The siblings, one boy and one girl, follow him wherever he goes, be it upstairs, downstairs, or on occasion, outside. He pampers them, but not to the point where they grow overweight or spoiled. Shuichi can see it as clear as day - Ryoma loves his cats dearly. Why else would he spend so much time with them, or make such an effort to find a dwelling that would allow him to house cats? 

 

On the human side of his new arrangements, Shuichi comes to find that Ryoma and Korekiyo make good roommates. While he is used to Ryoma’s quiet, calm presence, living with Korekiyo starts off as an unknown. At first, Korekiyo is scarce. But after they all settle in, he stays at home much more often. Shuichi comes to know that Korekiyo can be even quieter than Ryoma. He rarely makes any noise, even to the extent where he gives Shuichi a scare when he comes around a bend.

 

Korekiyo and Shuichi share the largest bedroom, and Ryoma sleeps in the smaller sized room accompanied by his cats. Shuichi finds that Korekiyo doesn’t decorate much, but always has a small army of books on hand. They’re stacked up high, and on rare occasions, Shuichi has seen the stacks come toppling down onto the anthropologist.

 

One thing perplexing about Korekiyo is that he never goes without long sleeves and pants. Even on the hottest of days, he seems to prefer to sweat rather than to wear short sleeves. Shuichi asks about it one day when they are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the fan whirring above them. Shuichi has the long-haired cat in his lap.

 

“Kiyo, why don’t you wear short sleeves?”

 

The anthropologist's eyes flicker over to Shuichi.

 

“They make me rather… uncomfortable. So I wear long sleeves instead - it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

 

Shuichi doesn’t know if asking further is a good idea, but Korekiyo continues without prompting.

 

“To clarify, what I am not comfortable with is showing my skin.”

 

Shuichi pets the cat in his lap. She purrs rhythmically when he pays attention to her.

 

“Ah, I understand. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

 

Korekiyo stands.

 

“I don’t take offense to your curiosities, Shuichi. It is human nature to ask such questions. However, I do wonder… why have you waited so long to ask?”

 

Shuichi furrows his brows. Why _ had _ he waited so long? He settles on something honest, yet simple.

 

“I didn’t want to point it out. I figured you already had people doing that to you, and that you didn’t need another.”

 

Korekiyo nods slowly.

 

“I see, how interesting... kehehe. Farewell Shuichi, it is time for my next class.”

 

And with that, Korekiyo leaves Shuichi sitting on the sofa, puzzled. 

 

\---

 

Shuichi goes out with his friends on weekends and days he’s free. They explore the city just outside of campus together, often seeing movies and plays per Tsumugi’s request. Angie has taken them to museums, and Ryoma has dragged them to cat cafes. Out of everyone, it is Rantaro who enjoys it the most, relishing the chance to discover a new corner of the sprawling city blocks. Shuichi likes it too, but it’s more so because he’s given the opportunity to be around people he’s comfortable with, rather than whatever activity they happen to be doing.

 

Korekiyo stays home most of the time. Shuichi doesn’t miss how he’s always there, reading on the couch and waiting for them to return. Korekiyo never says it aloud, but Shuichi feels it in the air whenever he’s present: the others aren’t as comfortable with the anthropologist as they are with Shuichi. Of course, Shuichi doesn’t say anything. If he does, it’d accomplish nothing aside from contribute to the awkwardness. He couldn’t force them to get closer to Korekiyo, anyways.

 

There’s one night Shuichi stays home with Korekiyo. It ends up being quite pleasant; Korekiyo makes tea and Shuichi digs into his hidden cookie stash. Afterwards, they hike up to their shared room and relax. The beginning of the night is spent without them talking much. Korekiyo is working on an essay, and Shuichi is reading a lengthy part of a textbook for class.  When Shuichi finishes, he glances over at Korekiyo. He’s hunched over his computer, intensely focused on whatever is on his screen. Shuichi clears his throat before he speaks.

 

“What are you working on?”

 

Korekiyo looks at the screen for a good fifteen seconds before he slowly unglues his eyes from the computer. He gives Shuichi a mischievous smile, “I believe it would be easier to explain if I showed you. Come here.”

 

Shuichi puts his textbook down and crosses the room with little hesitance to stand by the edge of Korekiyo’s bed. Unlike usual, Korekiyo is not wearing a mask, and Shuichi is still getting used to seeing him without it on when at home. Shuichi squints at the image on the screen, “What is that?”

 

Korekiyo turns the computer around for Shuichi to look at. On the screen is a set of strange hieroglyphics, different from any Shuichi has seen before. After giving the detective a chance to look at the images, Korekiyo spun the computer back around towards him.

 

“These, Shuichi, are Mayan hieroglyphics. While Egyptian hieroglyphics have been in the forefront of ancient cultural teachings, many other societies told stories and wrote with a picturesque writing. Intriguing, is it not?”

 

Shuichi nods and leans forward in an effort to see the hieroglyphics. Korekiyo tilts his head to the side, the hint of a smile on his face,“You may sit down if you would like to have a better view.”

 

Shuichi sits next to Korekiyo, craning his neck to see the hieroglyphics glowing on the screen. Korekiyo catches him looking at them, “Ah yes, these symbols come together to form a story, and quite an interesting one at that. Would you like to hear it?”

 

Shuichi’s face brightens,“Sure, I’d love to.”

 

Korekiyo goes on the explain the hieroglyphics late into the night. Shuichi is fascinated by them and the stories Korekiyo tells him. Even if he doesn’t understand them all, the experience is soothing. Korekiyo’s voice is both low and strangely soothing. The last thing Shuichi remembers before his consciousness drifts into nothingness is the feeling of his cheek pressed against Korekiyo’s shoulder, and his eyes trained on the screen. 

 

“Shuichi?”

 

Korekiyo’s voice jolts him back to reality. He’s immediately conscious of the fact that his head is on Korekiyo’s shoulder, and Korekiyo‘s eyes are narrowed. Shuichi pulls away from Korekiyo, his cheeks reddening, “I’m sorry Kiyo, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I liked the stories you were telling me, I was just... tired.”

 

Korekiyo’s expression immediately lightens to one akin to amusement,“I am glad you found the stories to be interesting. Perhaps I should tell you them at an earlier time in the day, next time?”

 

Shuichi smiles sheepishly.

 

“I think that sounds like a good idea.”

 

\--- 

 

As fall blends into winter, and winter fades into spring, Shuichi learns a bit more about the puzzle that is Korekiyo.

 

The first thing he learns is that despite Korekiyo’s thin frame, he does eat. He just forgets to do so sometimes, especially when he’s researching something anthropology related. Shuichi reminds him when he can, and for the most part, Korekiyo is thankful. Even Ryoma takes care to remind him, although his methods are more subtle. Still, Korekiyo doesn’t let anyone cook for him. The most Shuichi has gotten him to accept is a bowl of ramen, which Shuichi considers to be a victory, albeit small.

 

The second fact Shuichi comes to know is that Korekiyo despises air conditioning. He sits as far as he can from any vents and fans in a room, showing displeasure when he doesn’t have the opportunity to do so. How Shuichi comes to this conclusion is a mix of his own observations and Korekiyo’s eventual admittance of his distaste. The anthropologist states that he dislikes to feeling the artificial breeze creates, especially on his head. Shuichi notices Korekiyo rubs his temples frequently, too, when there is a significant amount of air conditioning circulating around a room. 

 

The third observation Shuichi makes is that Korekiyo does not like being asked stupid questions. Shuichi once tried to ask a silly, rhetorical question of Korekiyo, only to be threatened. The anthropologist’s exact words were, “Do you want my to tear out your nerves?” From that day forward, Shuichi decided not to intentionally ask Korekiyo questions that would trigger as terrifying of a reaction. To his surprise, he is mostly successful.

 

The fourth piece of information is something Shuichi discovers by accident, though Korekiyo is (unfortunately) more than happy to explain it to him. It is Korekiyo’s interest in ropes, specifically those used to bind humans. There’s an energy in the images Shuichi can’t decipher, a strange mix of sensual and artistic beauty. While he doesn’t share the same interest in it as Korekiyo, he does see after some explaining why the anthropologist would find it fascinating. Though… Shuichi still can’t help but think of it as strange.

 

The last and final piece of the puzzle is that Korekiyo still won’t take off his bandages, no matter what time of day it is or where he is. It’s something he’s more strict with than even keeping his arms and legs covered. On rare occasions, Korekiyo rolls up his sleeves or pants just the slightest bit. But he’s never taken off his bandages in front of Shuichi or Ryoma.  Shuichi has asked before, but Korekiyo simply replies with the same response over and over.

 

Shuichi stops asking after a while.

 

\---

 

It’s during lunch on Monday that Korekiyo corners him in the back of the library.

 

Shuichi nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels the anthropologist’s long, slender fingers wrap around his forearm. 

  
“AHHH!”

 

The scream slips out before he can stop it. Korekiyo quickly retracts his hand,“My apologies, Shuichi, did I frighten you?”

 

Shuichi lets out a nervous laugh, his heart still racing, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s okay. Do you need anything, Kiyo?”

 

Korekiyo produces a pamphlet from his pocket and hands it to Shuichi. On the front is a collage of different tourist destinations of varying climates and population densities. Shuichi opens it gingerly, his eyes scanning the pages. It takes only a few seconds for Shuichi to realize that it’s an advertisement for a trip to Europe to study abroad during the summer semester. 

 

“I plan on attending this trip during the summer. I noticed you seem to have a keen eye for relics and subjects with great anthropological value. Several spots are still available, have you any interest.”

 

Korekiyo leaves before Shuichi can get a single word out. If he could have spoken, he would have only said one word.

 

"Yes."


	4. Unfamiliar Ground

Planning a trip halfway across the globe is ten times as stressful as Shuichi thought it would be.

 

Shuichi finds himself in a tizzy trying to pack everything. They’re limited to one luggage case each, making fitting everything in a challenge. Shuichi’s suitcase is a hand me down from his now deceased grandmother. It’s roomy, but has an odd shape that makes it difficult to carry. Korekiyo’s suitcase is slim, yet he somehow manages to fit more than Shuichi can into his suitcase. Seeing Shuichi’s frustration Korekiyo offers him help, and as if magic, Shuichi’s suitcase is fully packed within minutes. He asks the anthropologist how he does it, to which Korekiyo just smiles and points to the extra vacuum bags littering the coffee table.

 

Another matter entirely is plane tickets. Shuichi’s head spins when he thinks about how many flights they’re going to need to take. But by some miracle, they get all their tickets and their papers together. It’s a massive undertaking to get them all approved, and both students are relieved when it is done. 

 

\---

 

They take a taxi to the airport. They talk idly as the driver shuttles them forward towards their destination. Korekiyo gets paler and paler the closer they come to the airport. Shuichi creases his brow in concern.

 

“Korekiyo? Are you okay?”

 

Korekiyo’s eye twitches.

 

“I… am not fond of planes.”

 

Shuichi nods, but soon comes to learn that Korekiyo’s dislike of airplanes is a lot greater than merely some pre-flight nerves. They go through security slowly, only serving to heighten Korekiyo’s discomfort. By the time they finally get to the terminal, Korekiyo is shaking so badly that Shuichi wonders if he’ll survive the flight.

 

“Kiyo?”

 

Korekiyo’s gaze stays glued to the plane that pulls up near them - their flight.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have you been on a airplane before?”   
  


“Yes.”

 

“How was your flight?”

 

“Not… pleasant.”

 

Shuichi opens his mouth to ask another question, but the intercom comes on to inform them to begin boarding. Korekiyo’s shaking intensifies, and Shuichi notices he’s… hugging himself? The detective doesn’t question him about it aloud, consumed instead by worrying if Korekiyo is going to be okay. 

 

It’s a minute or so before Shuichi and Korekiyo can board. They pass the gate and walk down the walkway to the plane. Shuichi does his best to talk to Korekiyo as they walk to their seat, yet the intensity of Korekiyo’s fear makes it difficult to distract him.

 

Once they’re seated, Shuichi thinks Korekiyo looks a little better. But when the plane starts to move, Korekiyo’s shaking begins again with vigor. His knuckles go white with how hard he grips the armrests. In a spur of the moment decision, Shuichi offers his hand to Korekiyo.

 

“Hey, if you want, we can hold hands? That… helped me when I was younger.”

 

To his surprise, the anthropologist grips his hand. Shuichi cringes at how hard Korekiyo is squeezing his hand, but he doesn’t pull away.

 

“Breathing slowly helps for anxiety, too.”

 

Korekiyo nods weakly. The plane turns onto the runway and begins to pick up speed. Korekiyo grows impossibly paler, and for a moment, Shuichi fears he will faint. The detective puts his other hand on top of Kiyo’s, gently massaging the back of it in an effort to keep the anthropologist from passing out right then and there. The plane rises from the runway, and Shuichi feels pressure building in his ears. 

 

He looks over to find Korekiyo staring ahead, stiff as a board. For the next half hour of the flight, Korekiyo barely moves. It’s well over an hour before his knuckles aren’t white, and over two hours before Korekiyo removes his hand from Shuichi’s.

 

When he does, the ghost of a touch makes Shuichi want to ask Korekiyo to put his hand back.

 

\---

 

The first place they visit first is the grassy ruins of a castle. The stone walls are dominated by ivy that creeps up the cracks and crevices of the weathered fortress. Cannons, now rusted, jut out from atop the castle. A group of students and a tour guide lie in front of them, standing on the dirt road leading to the ruins.

 

Wind whistles over the plains, the weather mild. Shuichi wears a sweatshirt over short sleeves and long pants. It’s a comfortable outfit, allowing for movement and providing adequate warmth. Korekiyo walks beside him, and Shuichi nearly has to jog to keep up with his long gait.

 

“Kiyo, have you heard of this castle before?”

 

The anthropologist nods, “Indeed I have. But I will not speak of what I know at this very moment. I can, however, fill in any gaps in your knowledge as we go along, so you are free to ask questions if you feel you are unclear.”

 

They stop talking as they merge into the group. A minute passes by before they see another tour group exiting the castle. It is then that their tour guide moves forward. He launches into an explanation of the origins of the castle and who owned it when it was still in service. It is not hard to understand, but Korekiyo still bends over to whisper clarifications and extra facts into Shuichi’s ear when there’s anything the tour guide doesn’t go into detail on. Shuichi doesn’t mind it at all - he’s happy that Korekiyo is so intrigued by the history of the castle, and Shuichi would be a liar if he said he didn’t find it somewhat fascinating, too.

 

The group eventually reaches the roof of the castle. Here, they are allowed to explore freely. Shuichi is drawn to the cannons, their frames taking him back to the times of war and conflict between kingdoms. The weapon’s surface is old and worn, yet still, the magnificence of it shines through. How many had been felled by the projectiles shot out of this cannon? And how many knights and warriors stood behind the barrel, tirelessly loading and unloading the machine? 

 

Shuichi hears a low chuckle behind him, Korekiyo coming to a standstill beside him, “Fascinating, isn’t it? Even as the past fades and the future grow near, rust cannot tear away the marks of humanity.”

 

Shuichi doesn’t take his eyes off the cannon,“It really is… I can’t believe how many of these cannons have survived. Do you know of any other weapons that have lasted through the years, Kiyo?”

 

Korekiyo now stands next to Shuichi, his hands at his sides. His expression is distant.

 

“There are many things made in wars past that have lasted through time, Shuichi. You will find that countless weapons of varying size and shape are still standing tall today. Even in war, humanity is beautiful and everlasting.” He says, pausing to look at Shuichi, “But unfortunately, I cannot estimate an exact number for you.”

 

Shuichi nods and glances towards Korekiyo. His hair blows lazily in the wind, uncaring and free. Behind him, the sun, white hot, falls towards the horizon. A sky full of yellows, oranges, and brilliant reds slows its descent. The sunset casts all Shuichi can see in warm colors, Korekiyo included. 

 

The light touches the front of his face, his lips, and his eyes, all of which glow with a fiery intensity. Shuichi doesn’t mean to stare, yet he feels like he’s frozen. He’s mesmerized by the way the light accents Korekiyo’s sharp yet elegant features. Shuichi wants to say something, but his brain fails to supply him with the right words. Moments later, the tour guide calls to them. The moment is broken, and they begin their descent down the spiraling stone stairs before Shuichi can speak.

 

When he’s alone with Korekiyo, Shuichi wants to say what he couldn’t say before. Yet still, his mind is muddled and the words he wishes to say simply won’t emerge from past his lips.

 

\---

 

Waking up is slightly more complicated with Shuichi and Korekiyo sharing a bed.

 

They had asked the hotel clerk if they could be switched to a new room. Yet upon seeing the price of the upgrade, the pair had decided they’d make do, since the trip was already quite of an expense. That meant that they both had to squeeze onto one bed, sleep through the night, and avoid accidentally kicking their bedmate off the mattress.

 

Shuichi soon learns Korekiyo is much too tall for the bed. He’s forced to bend his legs and curl his body in on itself in order to fit on the mattress. Shuichi, on the other side of the bed, finds himself occupied with making certain that Korekiyo’s sudden sleep-twitching doesn’t push him off. 

 

They learn make do.

 

One morning, Shuichi wakes up to find his arm trapped under the anthropologist. If Korekiyo hadn’t been sleeping, Shuichi would have removed his arm quickly. But the anthropologist is sound asleep, his breath coming out in long, peaceful exhalations. Shuichi’s trapped arm aches him terribly, and he bites his lip in an effort to keep his silence. Pins and needles cascade in waves up and down the appendage, incessant and unpleasant.

 

After Shuichi finally gets his arm free, sans Korekiyo waking, he discovers another problem… sweat. With two people sharing a bed in summer, Shuichi wakes up feeling gross and sticky. He’s thankful that Korekiyo wears long sleeves - if he didn’t, Shuichi fears that they would’ve been stuck to each other for the majority of the morning.

 

Shuichi pulls his body out of bed and trudges towards the bathroom for a shower. He had taken a shower last night, but this morning, he feels just too sweaty to function without bathing first. Shuichi turns on the water and undresses himself once he locks the bathroom door. Showering takes only a matter of minutes, his hair short and easy to clean. Once he’s finished, he steps out and dries himself off. Upon leaving the shower, however, he realizes he’s forgotten to get a fresh change of clothes. Unwilling to simply put on his dirty nightclothes, Shuichi steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

 

Korekiyo is awake by now, sitting on the side of the bed and fiddling with his bandages. He looks up at Shuichi as he passes, “Good morning, Shuichi. How did you sleep?”

 

Shuichi rummages around in his luggage, only half-listening to the anthropologist, “Good, good… how did you sleep?”

 

“I slept fine. What is it that you are looking for?”

 

Shuichi holds up half an outfit for Korekiyo to see, “Just my clothes - I forgot to bring them into the bathroom with me.”

 

Korekiyo nods, “I see.”

 

Shuichi retreats to the bathroom and dresses. When he comes out, dressed and ready, Korekiyo goes in. Shuichi doesn’t doubt that Korekiyo is just as sweaty as he was, if not more. The detective drinks from his water bottle and organizes his backpack as he waits for Korekiyo to get ready. Soon, the water stops running and Shuichi hears Korekiyo exiting the shower.

 

Minutes go by, and yet Korekiyo doesn’t exit. Shuichi stands up and lightly knocks on the bathroom door.

 

“Kiyo?”

 

There’s shuffling, then silence. Shuichi’s eyebrows furrow,“Are you okay? Do you - ?”

 

“It appears that my towel is missing, however, I recall placing it on the towel rack. ” He replies, his voice neutral.

 

Shuichi pales, looking down at the towel on his bed.

 

“Oh, I think that was my fault. I’m sorry, Kiyo, I used your towel by accident. Do… you want the one I used last night? It’s dry now.”

 

There’s a pause, and Shuichi hears Korekiyo sigh,“That… will suffice. Please, pass it through the crack between the door and the doorframe.”

 

The door opens five inches, maybe six. Shuichi holds out the towel to Korekiyo, thrusting it into the space. Korekiyo takes it from him, but not before Korekiyo’s hand brushes his. The anthropologist’s skin is so cold that Shuichi nearly drops the towel. The only other thing Shuichi notices before Korekiyo closes the door is that his nails are painted black.

 

_ Interesting... _

 

\--- 

 

The boat hums as it powers forwards through the water. The air smells of salt, and the cries of gulls fill Shuichi’s ears. Korekiyo sits next to him, dressed in swimwear with long sleeves. Shuichi is dressed similarly, but his goggles and snorkeling mask cover his face. Korekiyo’s gear is laid down neatly on his lap, the strap of his goggles snaking around his wrist. A few other students are on the small boat with them, talking amongst themselves.

 

Korekiyo and Shuichi speak very little during the boat ride. The boat soon slows, gently coming to a stop. The driver comes to the back of the boat and announces that it’s time for them to get off. While Korekiyo fastens his snorkeling gear to his face, Shuichi watches the rest of the students descend into the water behind the guide. As Korekiyo finishes, Shuichi stands and walks to the edge of the boat. The ocean is calm below him.

 

Shuichi jumps.

 

The sea envelopes his body in its cold grasp, sending a shiver down his spine. He is fortunate in that he does not get any water in his snorkel, as opposed to a few of the tourists who bob at the water’s surface, coughing and blowing into their snorkel to expel the liquid. 

 

A school of fish passing by brings Shuichi’s attention to the sea below him. A coral reef, vibrant and full of life, comes into view. In awe of the scene below him, Shuichi forgets how to breath. Only when water pours into his snorkel does he surface, choking on sea water. The liquid tastes unbearably salty on the back of his tongue. He coughs, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

“Shuichi?”

 

Korekiyo’s voice comes from in front of Shuichi. When Shuichi opens his eyes, he sees the anthropologist treading water a mere five feet away.  

 

Shuichi smiles in an effort to disguise his embarrassment, trying to appear composed, “I’m fine!” 

 

Shuichi’s response is accented by one last cough before he puts his snorkel up to his mouth and blows out the seawater that had dripped inside it. Then, he dips his head below the surface once more. Korekiyo follows suit, and together the two try to catch up to the rest of the group. 

 

Luckily, it isn’t a particularly difficult task. The others are moving slowly through the water, taking in as much of the surreal underwater paradise as possible. Shuichi soon finds himself doing the same, although this time, he does not forget to breathe.

 

The reef thins out and then fades away entirely. In its place are ruins, old and covered in algae. Yet even with the green carpeting the ruins, Shuichi is struck by the magnitude of the underwater graveyard. The headstones stand tall, some broken, others intact. They are all different shapes, each more complex than the last. Korekiyo had told him before their dive about the history of the site, and Shuichi had listened, enraptured. Now, as he swims above the final resting place of hundreds of people from years past, he truly understands the magnitude of the stories Korekiyo had spoken of.

 

They swim above the graveyard for a half hour before the boat they had previously ridden on returns. Shuichi boards it well before Korekiyo, the anthropologist falling behind to gaze longer upon the underwater graveyard. When he draws close to the boat, Shuichi holds out his hand to help Korekiyo board. The anthropologist’s fingers, long and thin, clasp around his. Shuichi pulls upwards and Korekiyo maneuvers himself onto the boat. 

 

They sit next to each other on the return trip. Korekiyo is silent most of the time, and it is only when the dock comes into view that he finally does speak.

  
“Isn’t it beautiful? Humanity perseveres even after death.”

 

Shuichi looks back. The boat carves out the water in its foamy wake. He nods.

 

“It is.”

 

\--- 

 

Shuichi looks through the window in the room he shares with Korekiyo. They are fortunate that this hotel had double-bed rooms open at a fairly cheap price. The sun is no longer present, replaced with the moon and the light of the city below. It’s a pretty sight nevertheless, glowing with light and an energy that refuses to go out, even at night. Shuichi presses against the cool glass, his body going limp. His day had been long, and all he wants to do now is sleep

 

The shower runs in the background. Shuichi is fairly sure that it is Korekiyo showering, but he hasn’t seen the anthropologist yet. Nevertheless, Shuichi is too tired to care.

 

The detective peels his face away from the glass. He’s so fatigued that he doesn’t hear the shower shut off and Korekiyo emerge from the bathroom. It is only when the anthropologist turns around to head towards his bed that Shuichi can verify that the figure is indeed his roommate. Korekiyo has his back to Shuichi, and is in the middle of putting on his shirt. His pants hang around his bony hips, swaying as he moves. Shuichi’s eyes widen in surprise, his gaze drawn to the anthropologist’s arms. They’re uncovered, and even from a distance, Shuichi is sure what he sees on them.

 

Burn marks.

 

Shuichi makes a sound half between a gasp and a strangled question. Korekiyo whips around, immediately on guard.

 

“Sorry!” Shuichi blurts out, averting his eyes, “I didn’t realize you were changing.”

 

Korekiyo’s shoulders sag.

 

“No, it is my fault. My apologies, Shuichi - I hadn’t realized you were here.”

 

The anthropologist puts his shirt the rest of the way on and walks over to his bed. Shuichi starts to prepare for bed in order to distract himself from what he had just seen. But as the questions pile up in his mind, he finds that he’s unable to relax. 

 

“Kiyo, how did you get burned?”

 

The anthropologist, now laying down, does not turn over.

 

“I’d prefer not to answer that, Shuichi.”

 

Shuichi feels a pang of guilt in his chest. He’s in the middle of forming an apology in his head when Korekiyo stands and walks over to the side of his bed. The anthropologist pushes up both his sleeves and holds his arms out, “But I will. It was an accident - my sister caused a fire. I was simply caught in it.”

 

Shuichi’s brows furrow, “An… accident?” He says as he reaches out to touch the skin on Korekiyo’s arm. 

 

The anthropologist flinches, and Shuichi retracts his hand, “Sorry!”

 

Korekiyo sighs, fiddling with his sleeves, “Yes, it was an accident. You may touch the scars, but I prefer that you  _ ask _ before doing so.”

 

Shuichi dips his head in understanding. He then looks up questionly, “Can I…?”

 

Korekiyo’s reply is slow, yet firm.

 

“...Yes.”

 

Shuichi reaches his hand out once again. This time, he runs a hand over Korekiyo’s skin. Shuichi can see it is heavily scarred, even if the scars are faded. Shuichi is gentle, starting from the inside of the anthropologist’s elbow and pausing at his wrist. The burns are not random - in fact, some are newer, and some are older. Beneath the burns are scars, and while Shuichi doesn’t know why they’re there, their existence alone is enough to make his stomach turn. The detective looks up at Korekiyo, his expression soft yet determined,“I’ve studied scars, Kiyo - those are not accidental. What happened?”

 

Korekiyo smiles sadly, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Shuichi feel sick, “I knew you would see through me, Shuichi. You truly are a great detective. The truth is… you are correct. The exact circumstances are irrelevant, but know this - the person who caused these is dead. Do you understand, Shuichi?”

 

Shuichi pales, “I…”

 

He feels panic creep up his spine, as if Korekiyo’s wounds were fresh, bloody and raw. The scars, his dislike of people touching him, his distrust… 

 

“Korekiyo, I’m didn’t… that’s…I… ”

 

Shuichi can’t find the right words to finish his sentence. How could he? Nothing he could say would fix what happened. Korekiyo gently pulls his arm back and Shuichi relinquishes his grip without much resistance. 

 

“I apologize if I have disturbed you. Perhaps it was foolish of me to share this information with you. After all, it is my burden, not yours.”

 

Shuichi is left in a daze. He barely registers Korekiyo pushing his shirt sleeves down and moving over to his own bed. It is only when they’re both settled in their beds that Shuichi finds the courage to speak. 

 

“Korekiyo, I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me, and… I don’t think you need to keep it to yourself. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

 

Korekiyo doesn’t answer right away, and Shuichi fears he’s fallen asleep. Eventually, he responds.

 

“Do not apologize, Shuichi - it was not your fault.”

 

After that, there’s a calm silence that falls over the room. Shuichi gets up and flicks off the light. He hears Korekiyo move only once before he is quiet. Shuichi tries to fall asleep, but even long after Korekiyo is fast asleep, Shuichi finds himself wide awake. His eyes are glued to the ceiling, and his mind is whirling.

 

He doubts he will sleep tonight.

 

\---

 

There’s an odd tension that develops between Shuichi and Korekiyo. Every interaction they have is weighted down by it, even with Shuichi assuring the anthropologist that he was not bothered by his story. But in truth, the detective can’t get the image of Korekiyo’s mangled arms out of his head. He wants so desperately to ask more, to demand that Korekiyo tell him the entire story. Yet... he can’t bring himself to do it. Shuichi isn’t a fool - he knows that information couldn’t have been easy for the anthropologist to share, no matter how calm Korekiyo appeared. Shuichi wouldn’t feel right forcing Korekiyo to elaborate now.

 

So in the end, their talks end up being about things almost totally unrelated to themselves. They speak about the places they’ve traveled to, and the places they wish to visit. Shuichi isn’t surprised when Korekiyo goes off on a tangent about the culture of a group of people living in a remote village. It’s not an unusual subject for him to go off on; in fact, it’s quite normal for Korekiyo to talk about parts of foreign cultures. Regardless, Shuichi can’t silence the guilt that burns on in the back of his mind. Korekiyo is the one who invited him on this trip in the first place, and Shuichi had disrupted it by bringing up a horrid remnant of his past.

 

When they visit a bustling town in the height of summer, Shuichi doesn’t complain once. The roads are noisy as they walk through them, and the clamour is almost painfully loud to Shuichi’s ears. The detective is jostled around by the crowd, and pickpockets run rampant. The edges of the street are dominated by stands filled with produce and knick-knacks, shop-owners doing their very best to swindle tourists. Regardless of their marketing scams, their guide stops to let some of the students buy from the vendors before moving on. Even in the city, color is all around, from the old buildings rising up from their foundations to the painted windows on the front of stores. 

 

Despite the noises and smells, Shuichi continues on,  following silently behind Korekiyo. Their guide leads them to a cafe that is even more crowded than the streets they had just vacated. In the fray, Shuichi loses his water bottle and his lunch ticket. Yet he says nothing, only smiling weakly at Korekiyo in a veiled effort to prove that he is fine. His stomach growls when they set off again, and Shuichi is glad that no one can hear it over the buzz of the city. 

 

The stories Korekiyo tells are a welcome distraction from Shuichi’s hunger and thirst. Three fourths of the way through the trip, Shuichi’s head starts to hurt. As the group walks on, the pain intensifies, and it’s difficult for Shuichi to keep up with the others. Near the end of their trip comes an almost unbearable sense of dizziness, yet Shuichi pushes himself to keep going. He’s spurred on by the flash of happiness that glints is Korekiyo’s eyes. The anthropologist looks content, and Shuichi doesn’t want to ruin his mood after what happened the other night.

 

But as determined as Shuichi is, the pounding heachache and the dizziness refuses to go away. As their guide is explaining how to get home, Shuichi feels his body go hot, than cold. His vision blurs, and he stumbles into Korekiyo. Shuichi tries to respond, but he suddenly feels too weak to move his mouth. The anthropologist flinches, and Shuichi nearly topples over backwards. 

 

The last thing Shuichi remembers is Korekiyo asking him if he’s okay.

 

\---

 

Shuichi wakes up disoriented and confused. From what he can tell, he’s in a bed, attached to tubes and monitors of all kinds. The words are strange and foreign, but the configuration of the area is not entirely unfamiliar.

 

He’s lying in a hospital room.

 

Shuichi moves to stand before being stopped abruptly by the feeling of something nearly tearing his skin. He looks over at his arm in confusion. It’s only then that he realizes there’s an IV attached to the inside of his elbow, and that he’s almost pulled it out. He lays down with a sigh and waits for a doctor to come in to check on him. 

 

Shuichi is lucky - he doesn’t have to wait long.

 

A doctor walks into the room and smiles at Shuichi. He shuts the curtains behind him, “Hello, Shuichi. How are you?”

 

“I’m… okay. What’s … what’s going on?”

 

The doctor looks down at his clipboard. 

 

“Well, you were very dehydrated and you had a fever. Your friend told me he believed that you had suffered from heat exhaustion, and he was correct. Fortunately, you seem to be doing much better now, so we can release you after an hour or two. You know Korekiyo Shinguji, correct? He’s waiting in the lobby for you.”

 

Shuichi nods wordlessly, head spinning, and the doctor leaves. The remainder of the time Shuichi spends in the small hospital room is lost in a blur of tests and paperwork. By the time that he’s cleared to leave, it’s been nearly three hours. He’s escorted outside by a nurse who lets him hold onto her arm for balance. His steps are shaky, still. Upon reaching the waiting room, he sees a crowd of people. Some look sick, others are hurt, and the rest appear healthy. 

 

On the left side of the room in the chair closest to the door sits Korekiyo. He’s staring off into the distance, his limbs folded in. Sitting there in the corner, he almost disappears. When he sees Shuichi, he rises, and Shuichi lets go of the nurse’s arm. Korekiyo holds out his arm to Shuichi, and the detective takes it with little hesitation. His feet are still unsteady, and he still feel weak.

 

Korekiyo leads Shuichi outside, past the people waiting and the cars parked in the front. They stand at the side of the road and wait for a taxi. The ride back is a blur, and they don’t speak for the entire ride back to the hotel

 

As they walk into the elevator, Shuichi speaks up. “I’m sorry for ruining the trip for you, Kiyo. I... should have been more careful.”

 

They’re alone in the elevator, so they can speak freely. Korekiyo looks at Shuichi with a curious expression as he presses the button to the sixth floor.

 

“You did not ruin the trip for me, Shuichi. What gave you the impression I felt angered by your illness?”

 

Shuichi clenches his jaw, and Korekiyo sighs, “Shuichi, understand that I would not have given you the opportunity to travel with me had I not enjoyed your presence. I enjoy speaking with you - something so minor as an illness does not make me regret my decision.”

 

The elevator reaches the sixth floor and jolts their conversation to a halt. They exit the elevator and walk down the long, barren hallway to their room. Shuichi speaks only when they’ve entered their shared room. 

 

“But, I saw your arms, that doesn’t bother you… ?”

 

“No, it does not. It was inevitable that someone would notice eventually. I trust that you will not speak of it with others.”

 

Shuichi’s shoulders sag in relief.

 

“Thank you, Korekiyo.”

 

Korekiyo has his back almost completely turned to Shuichi, but the detective still feels uneasy. It doesn’t sit well with him the Korekiyo hasn’t talked to anyone about what happened. Shuichi has only a vague idea of the dynamic between them, but his instincts tell him that there’s a lot more there than Korekiyo is willing to share.

 

“Kiyo?”

 

The anthropologist doesn’t move, and Shuichi feels his stomach twist, “I… think you should tell someone about what you went through. I… know a few therapists who deal with… stuff like that. Talking to a professional helped me.”

 

A silence hangs between them, and Shuichi thinks Korekiyo has fallen asleep. Suddenly, Korekiyo turns over onto his back, turning his head towards Shuichi. He looks troubled, and Shuichi feels even more nauseous. 

 

Finally, after what seems like eternity, the anthropologist speak.s

 

“I… will try”

 

\---

 

Shuichi sits in the middle of a modest, yet clean, rooftop restaurant looking down at the city below. Lights speckle the landscape, the sounds of cars and faint hints of conversation floating up from the streets. Korekiyo sits one seat away from Shuichi, a young woman with pale purple hair between them. Shuichi recalls that she’s another student who’s studying in the same major as he is, and her name is Kyoko Kirigiri. The seats around them are filled with students from their college, all attending a studying abroad program. 

 

As dinner winds down, a cat leaps onto the table. A few students scream in surprise while the others try to shoo the cat away. Yet the cat seems to have other plans, and plants itself in the center of the table, knocking over glasses and food as it does. Shuichi freezes, thinking back to how Ryoma pacified unruly felines in the past. He slowly creeps up towards the animal, calmly offering it a meatball. The cat perks up and leans forward to grab the food. Shuichi stays still, letting it take the meatball from his hand. The tabby purrs, gulping the food down and then approaching Shuichi for more.

 

With the cat’s trust now gained, Shuichi is able to grab the cat and place it on the ground. The tabby seems perturbed for a moment before Shuichi begins to pet it. The animal sinks into his touch, purring all the while, and Shuichi wonders how long the cat has been homeless. 

 

“I see you have made a friend.”

 

Korekiyo walks up next to Shuichi before crouching down to see the feline. Shuichi smiles, “Doesn’t this remind you of home, Kiyo?”

 

The anthropologist reaches out his hand. The cat sniff it, then rasps it with its spiky tongue. 

 

Korekiyo chuckles,“Indeed, it does.”

 

They pet the cat until the rest of the table announces they are ready to leave. The tabby meows at Shuichi and Korekiyo as they walk away, following them for a few feet before stopping. Shuichi gives one last, apologetic smile to the cat before they enter the main building of the restaurant. They all get into an elevator together, and Shuichi situates himself near Korekiyo.

 

As the elevator closes, Shuichi sees the tabby cat pawing at the glass doors of the restaurant, their green eyes boring into his.

 

\---

 

Snow.

 

The world around them is covered in it, from the treetops, to the roofs, and all the way down to the frozen ground. Only the roads remain moderately snow free. Yet even then, drifts of powder-like snowflakes periodically migrate onto the asphalt. Shuichi pulls his jacket down, the excessive heat of the packed bus too much for him to handle in winter apparel. He’s sitting next to a stranger who repeatedly attempts to engage him in conversation. Shuichi tries his best to subtly decline the stranger’s offer, but they don’t seem to take the hint. Shuichi is grateful that the ride is not unbearably long.

 

As soon as the vehicle comes to a stop, Shuichi darts towards the door. He’s lucky - the stranger leaves him alone once they’re outside in the cool, mountain air. Shuichi catches Korekiyo when the group of tourists are halfway between the start of their self-guided tour and the parking lot. They walk in stride with one another, hanging behind the noisy groups that rush towards the front of the pack. Behind the others, it’s a surprisingly peaceful trail. 

 

“Shuichi, are you familiar with the tradition of creating snow angels?”

 

The detective is momentarily distracted by wind blowing snow off of the treetops.

 

“Wha- oh! Yes, I used to make them in the snow when I was younger.”

 

“Interesting. I’ve heard it is a popular game amongst children.”

 

Korekiyo’s tone is odd, as if  _ he _ really doesn’t understand what a snow angel is. Shuichi tilts his head inquisitively, “Kiyo, have you ever made a snow angel?”

 

“No, I have not. I was not allowed outside during the cold due to an illness the doctors suspected I could develop.”

 

Korekiyo looks distant, his eyes locked on something far away that Shuichi can’t see. An idea forms in Shuichi’s brain. It’s spontaneous and foolish, but Shuichi takes Korekiyo’s hand in his and pulls him towards the snow bank. The anthropologist does not resist, looking at Shuichi curiously.

 

Shuichi gestures to the snow, “Well, why don’t you try it now? Here, I’ll show you first.”

 

He lets go of Korekiyo’s gloved hand and lies down on an untouched piece of snow. He then moves his arms up and down to create wings, and his legs to the side and towards the middle to create the bottom of the dress. Korekiyo stands in front of him, watching him with interest.

 

“Intriguing… I’ve never thought I’d partake in such a tradition as an adult.”

 

Shuichi chuckles, continuing to clear out the snow from around his limbs as Korekiyo lays down a few feet away. The anthropologist mirrors Shuichi’s actions with his own arms, creating large arcs with his arms and legs. Shuichi sits up when he finishes, his gaze wandering over to Korekiyo forming a snow angel. It’s funny to see a young adult do such a childish activity, and Shuichi is forced to hold back a laugh. Once they’re both finished forming the snow angels, Korekiyo stands, offering Shuichi his hand. The detective takes his hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. 

 

They move back to admire their angels.

 

The angels aren’t neat by a long shot. Korekiyo’s is a bit too thin, and the bottoms of Shuichi’s wings nearly meet the edges of his angel’s dress. Shuichi hears a laugh bubble out from Korekiyo’s mouth,“They are not very good, are they? Perhaps I should work on fine tuning my skills.”

 

Shuichi smiles, his eyes bright, “Maybe I should too… I’m a little rusty. But that was fun.”

 

Korekiyo dips his head,“You are correct,” He stops to look up the trail, “But I’m afraid we cannot practice any more today, for I fear that we may be late if we do not catch up to the group. Shall we continue on?” 

 

Shuichi nods, taking one last look at the pair of angels before heading off towards the rest of the group.

 

\---

 

Shuichi walks amongst a dirt road leading to an old abandoned town. The sun beats down on the ground, relentless and scorching. Shuichi can already feel the sunburn forming on the back of his neck. When they come to a rest stop beneath a tree, Shuichi sinks down onto the brittle grass. He finishes off his water bottle, tipping up the bottle to get at the last drops of water. 

 

Something cold touches his knee, and Shuichi jolts. Beside his knee sits another water bottle, perspiration dripping down its sides. Korekiyo stands next to him, looking off into the distance. 

 

Shuichi holds the bottle up, “Kiyo, did you drop this?”

 

Korekiyo answers him without looking down.

 

“No, that is for you. I packed additional water for both of us in anticipation of hot weather.”

 

Shuichi smiles - he had forgot to bring more water.

 

“Thanks, Kiyo.”

 

“You’re welcome, Shuichi.”

 

\---

 

The coach bus rumbles down the road and the moon rises into the sky. The engine emits a low murmur as it drones on towards Paris. The last stop on their summer-long trip is the Eiffel Tower, and although Shuichi is looking forward to it, he’s relieved that their trip is nearly over. As much as he’s enjoyed the trip so far, there’s a deep tinge of homesickness in his chest that’s starting to weigh him down.  He misses his home, his friends, and the comfort of being in a place he knows. 

 

Having Korekiyo along had certainly made the trip easier, though. Somehow, Korekiyo always seemed to know stories about where they went. With Korekiyo telling him stories, Shuichi felt a sense of tranquility, even in unfamiliar places he hadn’t been to before. It felt like he knew the area, in some strange way. But it made sense - not knowing where he was and getting lost was something Shuichi feared greatly. With Korekiyo’s knowledge, however, he didn’t have to feel so scared. 

 

Shuichi sighs. The heat had been unrelenting today, and to make matters worse, the food they ate for lunch was obscenely late. The day was a long, and the group hadn’t even gotten a chance to rest before they were all loaded onto coach buses. 

 

By some miracle, the temperature decreases drastically at night, so the bus ride isn’t as bad as it could be. As the bus enters onto a highway, Shuichi feels fatigue sinking into each and every pore on his body. He slumps against the back of the cushioned seat, nodding in and out of unconsciousness

 

Shuichi feels something bump up against him and comes back to reality, rubbing his eyes. He looks over to see Korekiyo resting his head against Shuichi’s shoulder, the anthropologist fast asleep. Shuichi resists the urge to chuckle, instead leaning in closer to Korekiyo so that his head doesn’t accidentally fall off of Shuichi’s shoulder and jerk him awake. With his head on Shuichi’s shoulder, the anthropologist’s hair cascades over Shuichi’s torso in a wave of bluish-black. Shuichi soon finds that it is soft and smells faintly of hotel shampoo.

 

Korekiyo’s exhalations are slow, relaxed and peaceful. As the night falls and the bus quiets, Shuichi realizes he can hear Korekiyo’s heartbeat, too. The gentle drum is oddly relaxing, and Shuichi feels himself being lulled to sleep as well.

 

When the detective wakes, the bus is coming to a stop.  Shuichi rubs his eyes and lifts his head. By now, the sun is peeking out from the horizon, and they’re very near the city of Paris. Korekiyo stirs beside Shuichi, lifting his head from the detective’s shoulder. He blinks, confused, “My apologies - I did not intend to fall asleep. Where are we?”

 

Shuichi doesn’t say it aloud, but he misses the warmth of the anthropologist’s head against his shoulder. 

 

“It’s okay Kiyo, I fell asleep too. I think we’re almost there; it’s morning.”

 

Korekiyo nods, and the rest of their ride is spent in a sleepy, comfortable silence. 

 

\---

 

Shuichi’s feet fall quietly against the pavement of a wide walkway lit by warm streetlights. Fountains of water propel columns of water into the air on his left, and Korekiyo flanks him on his right. The anthropologist is dressed in a sleek black outfit accented by gold accents that glitter in the streetlight. Shuichi feels underdressed standing beside Korekiyo, despite the fact that they’re merely climbing the Eiffel Tower, not dining on it. 

 

The rest of the students that had traveled with them had already climbed the tower, attending earlier in the day before the tower was lit up. But Korekiyo and Shuichi were the last of the students to register, and their tickets were not able to be sorted out until the night. 

 

As the two students make their way towards the tower, Shuichi finds that he needs to jog to keep up with Korekiyo, “Kiyo! Wait!”

 

The anthropologist stops so abruptly that Shuichi nearly runs into him, “What’s wrong?”

 

Shuichi manages to get his response out between his labored breaths, “You’re...walking...too...fast.”

 

Korekiyo’s expression softens, and he chuckles, “Oh, my apologies Shuichi. Perhaps you should set the pace at which we approach the tower?” 

 

Korekiyo gestures for Shuichi to lead the way, and he nods, accepting the responsibility. Although they are no longer advancing towards the tower at a brisk pace, Korekiyo looks content. It’s not too far, anyways - they arrive in under three minutes. Shuichi finds that the tower, while impressive at a distance, is jaw-dropping when seen from below. Shuichi and Korekiyo both stare, starstruck, at the colossal tower that looms above them. 

 

Shuichi’s look of wonder only grows as they walk closer, “It’s amazing up close.”

 

Korekiyo nods, his expression light, “Humanity’s creations are truly astounding - I am saddened that I did not get to witness it’s creation firsthand.”

 

Shuichi nods in response to Korekiyo’s comment and looks over at the bottom level of stairs in the tower. As their tour guide had told them, the stairs are not nearly as crowded as the elevators are. Once they verify that they’ve paid to climb the tower, Shuichi and Korekiyo are directed towards the stairs. Korekiyo climbs up in front of Shuichi, but fortunately, he ascends the stairs at a moderate pace.

 

A questions pops into Shuichi’s mind, and he doesn’t hesitate to verbalize it, “Kiyo, why is the Eiffel Tower considered to be romantic?” 

 

The anthropologist’s steps do not falter.

 

“That is an interesting question, Shuichi. But I must ask you this first: what defines love?”

 

“It’s, um… uh… a feeling?”

 

“Yes, you are correct. Continue.”

 

There’s a brief silence, and the only noises that can be heard are the distant bustle of the city and the low, metallic thump of steps pounding against the stairs.

 

Shuichi’s brows furrow, “It’s um, having a deep fondness for someone… sort of like uh, wanting to be close to them forever?”

 

To Shuichi’s surprise, Korekiyo nods.

 

“That is also correct. Yet still, that is only surface level. What else do you know of love?”

 

By the time that Korekiyo has finished drilling Shuichi on the meaning of love, they’ve arrived at the first floor of the tower. It’s larger than Shuichi had expected, spacious and dotted with people enjoying the view. He takes a few minutes to walk around with Korekiyo, and a few more to briefly enjoy the view. The entire city of Paris sprawls out before them, alight and alive. A breeze gently teases at Shuichi’s clothes, prompting him to pull his sweatshirt closed.

 

As they begin their trek to the second floor of the tower, Korekiyo brings up the topic of romance once more.

 

“You see, Shuichi, romance and love has many facets. The love of a child for their plush toy is not the same as the love an adult has for the gifts they receive. And neither would ever come close to the love shared between two humans, whether amongst friends, amongst family, or amongst lovers. Each human is unique in their view of love, shaped by their surroundings and their thoughts. No two humans will ever understand entirely what the other is thinking, for intrinsically, their experiences cannot be the same. This will inevitably lead to consequences and change, as misunderstandings are ripe among us. Just as emotion grants humanity power, it also holds humanity back. Do you understand?”

 

Shuichi nods slowly. It feels too late to question the fundamental aspects of humanity, but at the same time, Korekiyo’s voice draws him in.

 

“Intriguing, is it not? Even in its inconsistencies and its miscommunications, humanity is beautiful. In love, and in-”

 

“Why beautiful?”

 

Korekiyo stops at a turn in the stairs to look at Shuichi. He cocks his head to the side, “Why…?” 

 

The anthropologist trails off, going silent for a moment, “Hmm... I will need time to construct a response. Let us speak when we reach the second floor.” 

 

They fall into silence. Upon reaching the second floor, they are met with a crowd of people, all vying for a spot to see out across the city of Paris. Shuichi suddenly feels a hand in his and jerks back. When he looks up, he finds that it is Korekiyo and immediately, he relaxes.

 

“Come.” Korekiyo says, gently pulling on Shuichi’s hand.

 

Shuichi does as asked, letting the anthropologist lead him away to a quieter spot on the floor. The view isn’t as fantastic at the area Korekiyo stops at, but it  _ is  _ a lot less crowded.

 

Korekiyo looks out across the city, “Shuichi, do you know why this tower was constructed?”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“It was constructed to commemorate the strength of the French and the hundredth anniversary of the French revolution. It was a symbol of power, of superiority, and of war. Yet it has become a landmark of love and a symbol of the French culture. Still… none of this would have occurred had humanity not had the power to change it. Understand?”

 

Shuichi shakes his head. Korekiyo shifts, and Shuichi feels their arms brush.

 

“Maybe that was too… abstract. You see, I am drawn to humanity even in its ugliest forms - war, destruction, betrayal… all of it intrigues me as much as its most wonderful forms - love, creation, loyalty. Humanity is beautiful in both its strength to change, and in its ability to persevere through dark times. Even the ugliest parts are beautiful, too. That beauty is darker, of course, more grim. But it is beautiful, nevertheless, like a flower is to a tiger. One is harmless in nature, and the other is a massive beast with strong jaws and a lust for flesh. Despite their differences, both are beautiful…” Korekiyo trails off, looking at Shuichi, “Now do you understand, Shuichi?”

 

Shuichi nods silently. He’s not exactly one hundred percent sure he can relate to what Korekiyo is talking about, but his outlook is… interesting, to say the least. He declines to question the anthropologist further, standing silently beside him and looking out over the city of Paris. Shuichi feels content to stand there beside Korekiyo, with his eyelids drooping and the soft sound of conversation buzzing in the background. But suddenly, he catches sight of the hotel they were staying in and perks up, pointing to the building, “Kiyo, that’s our hotel, right?”

 

The anthropologist get closer to Shuichi in order to see what the detective is pointing to. Shuichi feels Korekiyo’s shoulder press against his.

 

“Ah yes, you are correct. That is our hotel.”

 

Korekiyo pauses. There’s a far away look in his eyes. Shuichi  reaches over to squeeze his hand.

 

“Kiyo?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Shuichi starts to ask him about what he was contemplating asking the anthropologist about before, but thinks better of it.

 

“Thank you for telling me about this trip. I… really enjoyed it.”

 

Korekiyo’s expression changes into something undecipherable. There’s a glint of mischief shining in his eyes.

 

“You enjoyed it, despite my lectures? Perhaps you are more of an anthropologist than I had once believed, Shuichi.”

 

Shuichi chuckles,“Of course! Your stories are wonderful, and you’re a good friend, Kiyo.”

 

Korekiyo nods slowly, and Shuichi can clearly see him smiling beneath his mask, “Thank you, Shuichi. I enjoy your companionship as well.”

 

They look over the city together for a few more minutes. All of a sudden, Korekiyo’s hand slips out from under Shuichi’s. His face has gone pale, and the detective looks over at him with concern, “Kiyo, are you alright?”

 

The anthropologist nods, but his face says otherwise. He backs away from the edge of the tower, his body stiff, “I will meet you at the bottom of the tower. You may stay as long as you wish.”

 

Korekiyo turns on his heels and all but sprints towards the stairs going down. Shuichi’s heart jumps into his throat, his fear turning his blood to ice. Shuichi runs after Korekiyo, trying his best not to lose sight of him. 

 

“Kiyo, wait!” Shuichi yells out.

 

Korekiyo does not hear him. By the time that Shuichi rounds the corner of the tower, the anthropologist is nowhere to be seen. But Shuichi knows that he’s headed towards the ground, so he darts to the stairs as fast as he can. He shoots out a quick apology to anyone who he pushes past on the way down. Shuichi’s legs start to burn by the time he reaches the first floor, but he does not stop. He descends from the sky on autopilot, his mind focused on one thing: finding Korekiyo. Shuichi keeps firm hold of the railing on his way down, however. If he falls, he’ll be of no use. A few times he trips, but that does little to slow his descent.

 

Shuichi’s feet finally hit the ground. His legs feel like jelly, and his breathing comes in ragged gasps. Everything hurts, and his head is a mess. But what bothers him most is that he doesn’t see Korekiyo anywhere.

 

“Kiyo? Where are you?”

 

Shuichi calls out into the small groups of people near the tower’s base. Some turn their heads, but most ignore him. Korekiyo is with none of them, so Shuichi moves on. He checks the other bases of the tower, but finds nothing there. He’s at a loss by the time he’s finished circling the great structure twice and calling Korekiyo’s phone four times. All he can do now is head back towards the hotel and hope Korekiyo meets him on the way there.

 

Shuichi walks slowly, pushing his hands into his pockets. The anxiety in his chest does not lessen until he sees a tall, lanky figure approach him. The detective surges forward, nearly colliding with the anthropologist.

 

“Kiyo! Are you okay?”

 

Shuichi immediately notices that Korekiyo’s mask is not on his face and instead, it is hanging around his neck. His complexion is just as pale as it was minutes ago, but he manages to give Shuichi a weak smile, “Hello, Shuichi. I am fine now. I am lucky in that I had my inhaler with me. My apologies for worrying you.”

 

Shuichi lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding

 

“It’s alright, Kiyo, asthma attacks happen...just tell me next time.” He says, pausing, “Do… you want to go back to the hotel now?"

 

The anthropologist dips his head, “Yes, I feel that would be a good idea. I will refrain from running off without warning you in the future.”

 

They catch a bus to the hotel. All the while, there’s a  strange feeling in Shuichi’s chest that refuses to lessen. When they get off the bus, Shuichi taps Korekiyo’s arm.

 

“Kiyo, I’m going to just walk around the back way, okay?”

 

“That is fine. I will meet you inside.”

 

Shuichi gives a curt nod and then moves away.  The feeling in his chest only intensifies as he walks around to a bench far from the window of his shared hotel room, one encased in darkness. A familiar pain, fluttery yet sharp, sends him into a fit of coughs. Dread rises up into Shuichi’s throat, and he feels dizzy. Part of him knows exactly what is happening, while the other wanted to deny it.  _ No, please. Not again. _ He thinks, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his hands together.

 

It’s no use. 

 

A pain like no other rips through the detective’s throat. His eyes water, and he doubles over. The pain does not cease, and Shuichi feels something in his throat. He gags violently, acid from his stomach seeping up his esophagus. In a haze, Shuichi shoves his fingers into the back of his throat and pulls the object out. It rips at his skin, and he even feels it prick his hand. Thorns crawl up the beginning of its stem and leaves, leaving a single, beautiful red flower blooming out of the top.

 

\---

 

A rose, red in color and covered in dried blood, is found in the hotel’s trash only hours after Shuichi’s and Korekiyo’s plane departs.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you've enjoyed what I've posted so far! This is my first try at posting a fic here, so I'd love to hear your suggestions. The rest of the story is already finished, but still undergoing some minor finishing edits.


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